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crimsonrae · 3 years

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Disintegration

Chapter One

Summary: He witnessed the worst night of her life, he just never expected for her to become the love of his life.

KlausxCami

Rating: Mature

A/N: First a warning, there is a mature, though brief, sex scene. Hopefully, you all read the author's note. I was originally going to have this be the final chapter to this story... but, I thought it gave it a more interesting perspective as a story to the Mikaelson Clan. Plus, I truly hated that Camille died and part of my grieving process of her character's death was giving her a way to survive Lucien's bite in this story. So I snapped this chapter forward to the day Camille was supposed to die. I hope you all enjoy. The next few chapters will be Klaus's and Cami's journey after that night at the bar and how they got to where they are in this chapter. I promise the bond will eventually be explained.

Please read, review, and enjoy.

Chapter One

New Orleans, 2016

"You will find peace..."

As he uttered these final words to the first woman in a thousand years to have completely stolen his heart, Klaus unconsciously reached for the bond that had been severed upon her turning. The intangible link that had provided him peace for so long... It was only at the last second that he remembered the bond was no more and he would brush against a wall... but he didn't. The wall was present, but not as finite as it had been. The brick had turned to a picket fence.

He could feel her. He could sense his Camille. Still there, still bright, simply out of reach. He pressed against those planks desperate to break that final barrier... if only to have a few more minutes with her.

"Camille..." He whispered, unable to keep his impetuous need from his voice, "Camille... Stay with me, love. Please."

His hand grasped hers with a fierce intensity, "Reach for our bond. I need you to reach for it, push for it, please. Camille. I am begging you. Twice now, you have made me beg and I do not beg. Do not deny me again."

Tears crawled down his cheeks as he battered frantically at those planks. She was so close.

Blood entwines. Blood enshrines

He choked as he remembered the night of their binding. They had exchanged blood.

He had given her his when he had seen Lucien's bite. Had that weakened the barrier?

He ripped open his wrist without a second thought, "Camille, I'm going to bite you, love. Drink from me when I do. Drink and seek our bond. Please, Camille. Please."

His strained pleading had brought in his siblings as they felt the end was here. Placing his wrist over her mouth, Klaus sunk his teeth into the tender flesh of her neck – never noticing the distraught cries of Freya and Elijah as he took her poisoned blood into himself. He was still locked in Jackson Square, cradling Camille to his chest as he drank deeply... all the while straining for their bond and praying that she heard him.

It was so tentative, he swore he had imagined it at first, the tepid glance of her tongue against his flesh. Yet, as his blood dribbled down into her throat that pull grew stronger, and gradually, he matched his pulls with hers.

Blood entwines. Blood enshrines.

Please.

Those tedious planks warbled, and his heart surged. Drawing her blood further into him, he felt her do the same. He struck out at that barrier again and near crowed as he felt it crumbled.

Neither he nor Camille witnessed the light that spilled from their laced forms. Elijah and Freya stood dumbstruck as they bore witness to the final cementing of a bond that neither had been aware of existing. It was with this startling flash that the otherworldly beauty came crashing to an end.

Simultaneous cries of pain and anguish filled the air as the light receded back into the shadows. Camille's body arched and her jade eyes flew wide as fierce fire spiraled through her limbs. Her blood had turned to a molten river, and she swore she was burning from the inside out. Never once noticing how Lucien's bite gradually disappeared from her arm.

Klaus was in no better condition as he snarled into the crook of her neck. The veined lines around his eyes vanished as yellow glowed with sun-like intensity into the threaded fibers of his bedsheets. It was as if oil had spilled into his veins, simply to be lit by a torch. Only a millennium's worth of torment allowed him to find enough semblance of control not to dig his claws into the woman below him as he fought against wave after wave of pain.

Cami did not have the same fortune as she screamed vainly. Her blunted nails bit into his sides as she fell victim to their strange torture. Yet, she was the first to feel the kiss of their bond – more open to the renewed and strengthened link as she lost her battle against the riptide.

She could feel him.

Klaus.

She couldn't remember that last time she felt him so clearly. All his conflicting and contrasting emotions, his shaky control and tireless rage, his unbounded love, and endless fear. He swarmed her like a hurricane. The same fire that had burned her spurned him and unthinkingly she reached out to soothe him. She hated his pain, far more than she ever did her own. Her soul met his like a spring storm, showering drops of relief as the two meshed for the first time in several months. It was the connection that was needed as her pain spiraled back and the heat that ensconced her turned carnal.

She wanted him... needed him.

As if in answer to her unspoken desire, his golden gaze seared hers. Klaus felt her essence enshroud his and was struck with muted elation as her dwindling presence burst like a nova within him. She was strong once again and she was here. She was his.

His mouth crashed against hers, drawing lurid moans forth as a new wave of the bond pulled them under.

The older Mikaelson siblings quickly departed the room as it became obvious that there would be no stopping of the amorous couple. Their presence had been soundly overlooked as clothes littered the floor and sheets cocooned naked limbs.

Freya turned wide eyes to her brother, "Did you see..."

She paused unable to voice what exactly it was that they had just witnessed.

Elijah was of a similar disposition as he soundly ignored the lewder noises coming from his brother's bedroom, "Yes... but what has just occurred, I have no Godly idea. Best wait until Niklaus and Camille reappear for answers."

Freya could only nod, "From death's door to life's garden. I need a drink."

"Quite right." He concurred and as one they went downstairs and to the reserve liquor cabinet. Neither certain of what was to come.

___________________________________

Their coupling was frenzied, wild, and raw. There wasn't an inch of skin that Klaus hadn't clawed, bit, or fucked as he rammed her greedy womb with single-minded determination. He had wished their first tryst to be more languid. He had wanted time to explore her body, to draw her delicious notes of satisfaction to a crescendo before starting the process all over again. But like all his desires and plans for them, that plan laid slain on the roadside. He was lost to the nearly unbearable need to slake his lust... no, that wasn't right. It was more than lust that drove him. A primal need he had long since thought dead roared with renewed life, demanding him to claim, to breed and he had never been good at denying his baser urges.

Her creamy flesh had become littered with dark bruises under his ministrations and the only thing that kept his guilt at bay was that Camille seemed to be just as lost to this carnal storm. She tugged and bit and urged him on – meeting each of his thrusts and demanding more. It wasn't until he felt her fall apart for what felt like the hundredth time, but was really the fourth, that he released for the third and final time. His need dwindled as he felt their combined passions spill from their connected bodies.

Camille twitched and trembled against him. Her shapely thighs locking him in place as her wonderous cavern milked him of everything he had to offer. She wasn't ready to let him go, and he wasn't ready to leave. His sweaty brow met hers as he nuzzled her cheek, silently asking what he could not voice.

It was a relief when she brushed her mouth against his, but a thrill when he felt a sudden billow of affection – her affection, her love awash the bond. It was only then that Klaus opened his eyes to meet her dazzled gaze.

"Hey." Camille breathed a smile and could not help her chuckle as he stared at her in bemused marvel, a giddy grin painted his lips.

Klaus couldn't stop his laugh. The hell of the past twenty-four hours, the painful confessions, and drawn emotions of the end, their exuberant ardor and last-minute save all came crashing on him and the only word she could utter was a shy greeting.

Gods, did he love this woman.

It was this unfettered sentiment that made him silently vow to not waste further time with her. His laugh choked back a ragged sob as his fingers tangled into her soft locks, "Hey, love... you're here."

"Yeah." Camille murmured, a few stray tears spilling down her cheeks as she leaned into his touch, "Yeah, I am."

The pads of her fingers drew him closer still, neither was ready to return to the real world, but questions gnawed at her. A thoughtful frown clouded her expression, "Klaus...what happened? What did we do?"

Mildly annoyed and wholly unsurprised that it was Camille to push aside their contented bubble, he could only sigh, "I'm not sure, but our bond... Our bond has proven far more beneficial than I could have ever realized."

"This doesn't make sense. I thought my turning had severed it."

Klaus frowned, not sure how to answer. He had followed his instincts the second he realized that he could still feel her. Easing his weight off her, he bit back a grin as she mewled in discontent. He felt much the same, but he had no desire to crush her. Yet as he moved, he noted her bruises weren't fading nor was his bite.

Unease crawled down his spine. She should be healing, between his blood and her... Klaus paused as he ran his hand over her chest to rest on her quickly beating heart, "Camille... are you hungry?"

He was ravenous. His need for blood was being vastly ignored and he would only be able to tolerate such deprivation for a short while longer. A newborn vampire should not have such control, unless -

"A little. More thirsty..." Camille trailed off as she realized she was about to ask for water. She hadn't required water for weeks now, "Oh my God."

"You're human again." Klaus murmured in awe; his mind raced with the implications of this change. Unthinkingly, he bit into his palm to give her his blood – He had no desire to look at the myriad of bruises that decorated her flesh.

Camille breathed in sharply and he froze as her fingers rested next to his eye, "Your eyes... they had been gold earlier while we were – They're back to blue now, but gold and black, no veins."

"Drink." He whispered, ignoring her momentary hesitation at the sight of his opened palm. He was aware that her mind had drifted back to the last time she had imbibed vampiric blood while human.

Klaus wasn't sure what to make of all of this, but he had his suspicions. One of which had much to do with his driven need to breed Camille. Despite the fact that it should be impossible, he already had one child that defied expectation. His gaze drifted to her smooth belly, "We need to talk with Freya. I think I may -"

"Have knocked me up?" She finished shakily, not sure if the sudden spike of anxiety in her veins came from her or him.

Klaus hummed, not surprised that she had cottoned on to his line of thought.

"Even if I'm pregnant, we won't know for a few weeks." Cami murmured, as her thoughts began to spill quickly from her mouth, "It takes time for fertilization to occur... I don't know if it's better or worse that I'm human now. With Lucien suped-up into... whatever he is, his bite is no longer toxic to me, but he can rip me apart so easily."

A cold rage poured through her veins, taking her breath away. Christ, she had no doubt that was all Klaus.

"You will go nowhere near Lucien. You'll stay here, every time you're out of my sight..." He drew a calming breath, barely controlling his temper, "I will take care of Lucien."

"Like you took care of Aurora?" She couldn't help but ask, there was no keeping the bitterness from her tone.

Hurt flared from both of them and Klaus barely bit back the more caustic words on his tongue, "I will not lose you, Camille. This was too close."

Cami stared long and hard at him, before softening. There were too many unknown factors for them to continue with this discussion and arguing would do neither of them any good. Instead, her fingers delved into the shorn locks at his nape, caressing him in a silent truce, "You need to feed. I can feel your hunger and we need answers. We'll table this discussion until after."

For Klaus there would be no discussion, his mind was already made up. He would not risk her. Not again. He brushed a kiss to her temple, "A few more minutes, I'm not ready to stop touching you yet."

It was only then that Camille realized he was still in her

___________________________________

It was over an hour later when the two stepped from his bedroom freshly showered. Klaus threaded his fingers through hers. He was still staving off his hunger and it was driving her slowly crazy. Camille was at once flattered and exasperated by how literal he was being about not letting her leave his sight. She would have chided him for it if it weren't for the fact that she felt the same. It was irrational, but she wanted him within reaching distance like a child needing a security blanket. It was the fact that this impulse was so strong that she knew it couldn't continue. She couldn't expect Klaus to be with her every second.

Fortifying herself, they had only made it two steps when she called out, "Elijah."

Irritation crawled down her spine and she sent an admonishing glare to her left as she felt the air displace to her right.

"I see you two have decided to come up for air." Elijah greeted drolly as he eyed them speculatively, relief pouring through him at the sight of Camille up and about, "I am glad to see you are better, Camille. You're positively glowing."

His word choice must have been poor as the couple before him froze, exchanging a strange glance.

"Thank you, Elijah." Camille smiled wryly, "Klaus needs to feed, but he's being stubborn - "

"I will grab a bag - "At Camille's baleful stare, Klaus sighed and prodded her toward Elijah, "Keep an eye on her, brother. I'll be back soon."

Elijah nodded, even as he watched his brother depart with a frown. It wasn't until he turned his appraisal back onto Camille that he noticed what he had missed the first time around, "You're human."

"Seem to be." Camille replied with a shrug, "I'm not entirely sure if it's going to last if I'm honest. I feel like Klaus threw a Hail Mary and it worked, but what if it's temporary? What if in a few hours I'm knocking on Death's door again?"

The words flooded from her in a rush, it was an anxiety that she hadn't worked up the courage to share with Klaus just yet and she suddenly felt horrible for dumping it on Elijah. He looked as uncertain as she felt and she smiled sheepishly, "I'm sorry, Elijah. My mind hasn't stopped spinning since I realized I could breathe again."

"Indeed, you have a right to feel concerned, Camille. But, whatever it is my brother has managed, I can't bring myself to be upset about it." He smiled softly, "I truly am happy that you are still with us... and I'm sure it will be for more than a few hours. Niklaus wouldn't allow for anything less."

"You're probably right." She murmured, though her fear hardly lessened. She shook off her more morbid thoughts as they walked into the common room and she noticed no one around, "Where is everyone? Klaus and I need to speak with Freya, but I have the feeling it'll be better to have this conversation once and with everyone present."

Elijah shifted uncomfortably, though a mirthful glint had entered his gaze, "Yes, well, I believe it was a tad too noisy here for everyone."

"Noisy?" Camille blurted as she took in the stalwart silence of the compound.

She missed the humorous twitch of his mouth as he needled, "Yes, you're quite vocal."

It took a second for the implication of his words to sink before she flushed scarlet. Her hands flew to her face in horror as embarrassment swelled, "Oh. My. God! Elijah!"

He barely held in a laugh as he teased, "Of course it probably would have helped if you had closed the door."

"I can never look anyone in the eye again." Camille groaned and collapsed onto the couch, "I'm going to regret asking this, but why are you still here?"

"I had the onerous task of giving everyone the all-clear. Might I suggest never play rock-paper-scissors against a witch. You always lose. Speaking of..." Elijah reached into his coat pocket and removed his phone. He sent a message out to their group chat, "Done. Everyone should be here shortly."

"Wonderful." She uttered dryly, "I've been saved from a suped-up hybrid bite only to be killed by mortification. Sounds about right."

"Oh nonsense, it won't kill you. You'll just merely wish it had." The delighted smirk that crossed Elijah's lips was positively devious.

And absolutely familiar. It was moments like these that Camille had no problem seeing the familial resemblance between Elijah and Klaus. Her gaze narrowed, "Oh shut up."

"Well, I'm glad I'm not the only one she says that to."

Elijah and Camille turned to the entryway to see Klaus striding back in with a glass of blood in hand. This time the thrill of irritation that crawled down her spine was hers at the sight.

Klaus sensed her displeasure and held up a hand, "Before you start, I did feed from a tourist on the corner. Just took enough to take the edge off and came back for a bag."

Unconsciously, she brushed their bond to find his hunger mildly sated and no longer cloying. Tolerable was a good word for it, not that this made her much happier.

Klaus arched a brow at her and purposefully sipped from his glass, "See compromise."

Her unimpressed glower let him know she wasn't pleased, but as Camille shifted to let him sit beside her, he also knew she wouldn't fight with him about it. He produced a bag from his back pocket and held it out to her. Cami's expression brightened as she recognized the white paper and swirly cursive before snatching the small parcel from him. He flopped back into the corner and tugged her against his side as she pulled out two cookies from the bakery down the block.

The byplay didn't go unnoticed by Elijah as he studied the silent way that they were communicating with each other. Something had changed, but he couldn't put his finger on what besides the obvious. His brother had always shared an unspoken connection with Camille, but he sensed a shift more profound than one garnered from a romantic entanglement.

Klaus ignored his brother's studious stare and delved his senses out to locate his sister, "Where is everyone?"

Camille stilled and Elijah huffed a quiet laugh. Bemused at the reaction he was seeing and feeling, he pressed his query, "What?"

"You were a bit rowdy earlier. No one wanted to intrude." Elijah reiterated mildly. He was unsurprised when Klaus merely blinked.

"I didn't think we were that loud." A stream of embarrassment flared in his chest, and he turned his gaze to the top of Camille's head.

She stared determinedly at the cookie in her hand with a quietly murmured, "God."

"Yes, I believe there was quite a lot of sermonizing being shouted." Elijah couldn't help the taunt.

Klaus snickered as he watched her chuck the cookie bag at his brother, "I suppose that's why Camille resembled a tomato when I came in? Tormenting my bo-beloved, brother?"

Bonded. He was going to say bonded, and Camille wasn't sure why that thought sent such a rush through her veins, it wouldn't be the first time she had been addressed as such.

If Elijah noticed his slip, he said nothing as he wryly stated, "Hardly tormenting. Merely teasing my little sister."

Klaus and Camille stilled in surprise at the familial bequeathment. She had no expectation of such recognition, and he was merely astonished by the acknowledgment.

Their twin stares made Elijah roll his eyes, feeling mildly insulted, "While you may not carry our surname yet, Camille, you've proven to be a part of our family on more than one occasion. So please do try not to look so shocked. You too, brother."

An affectionate smile pulled at Klaus's lips which he quickly hid behind his glass. Yet, Elijah's knowing glance told him he was fooling no one.

___________________________________

"How long have they been like that?"

"Shhh, don't wake them."

There was a weight on his chest. Klaus blinked slowly as gentle murmurings rushed past his ears. A swath of blonde hair rested in his eye-line, and it took him a minute to realize that Camille was soundly sleeping against his chest.

How long had he been asleep?

He just remembered being hit with a wave of exhaustion as they waited on everyone to return. He had a vague memory of Marcel entering the compound as his eyes had drifted shut, but nothing beyond that.

"What time is it?" He asked, shifting to sit up a little more properly as he tried not to jostle Camille. It surprised him that he had slept while others surrounded them. He was normally a light sleeper. It made him leery how much deeper his rest became when Camille was beside him.

"Nearly seven." Freya supplied from her perch at the bar.

His gaze drifted around the room as he took stock of who was present. Marcel was pouring himself a drink, Vincent sat next to Freya, Elijah and Hayley had taken residence in the armchairs. It somehow felt wrong to not have Rebekah present.

A swift pain clamped through his gut and Klaus suppressed an irritated sigh as his fangs edged along the inside of his cheek. His hunger had returned in full force. He was loath to admit that Camille had been right, he had needed more fresh blood.

"Go feed."

He blinked as he noticed Camille's sleepy glare. It took him a minute to realize that his hunger had driven her awake. He tried to mute his end of their bond but couldn't seem to find the edge to tether it closed.

As she continued to glower, Klaus rolled his eyes, "What do you want to eat?"

"I'm fine, just would like some water," Camille answered, as she shifted to sit up.

He returned her unimpressed stare, "You haven't eaten anything besides those cookies. You need something more substantial. If I'm to leave, I might as well get you something."

"Surprise me." She yawned, exhaustion still clinging to her limbs.

He nodded and grabbed his phone. He already had a meal in mind and if he called it in now it'd be ready by the time he was done with his own meal. He pressed a quick kiss to her temple and slipped past Marcel.

"No bags!"

He cursed the fact that she had ever been a vampire. She had learned the restorative value of pulling their food from the tap far too quickly. Though in truth, he normally wouldn't take issue with this request, he still felt uncomfortable letting her out of his sight.

The feeling echoed with Camille as he disappeared. She had to fight the urge to call him back, but her attention soon fell on the gathered crowd, and she smiled as she took in their curious and relieved stares, "Hey guys."

"I see you're amongst the living again." Vincent greeted with a grin and she knew he wasn't referring to her near-death experience.

Camille smirked, "Who knew it would take almost dying to make me human again? How long were we asleep?"

Elijah answered with a light, "An hour if that. You both fell asleep relatively quickly. Are you sure you shouldn't be resting now?"

She could only shrug, "Klaus and I aren't sure about what we triggered. I think it better that we start looking for a few answers sooner rather than later."

"What exactly did you guys trigger?" Hayley queried curiously; she had done a double-take when she had spotted their slumbering forms. She was sure that she had never seen Klaus look so peaceful and it had only been more startling to note Camille's new state. Old state?

"Yeah, you were a step away from desiccating when Vincent and I left earlier." Marcel chimed in, "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy you're alright, Cami...it's just, what the hell?"

Cami shifted uncomfortably, tempted to ask for a whiskey as she sensed the interrogation commencing, but the lingering thought of her potential pregnancy stilled her tongue. Instead, she sighed and shook her head, "We should wait for Klaus, part of what happened has to do with something that occurred a long time ago and... and I'm not really sure what he – we did to initiate such a cataclysmic change. Can't say I'm not grateful for it though, wasn't really keen on dying."

Her words brought a round of murmured agreement before Hayley prodded again, "Yeah, but what was that with Klaus? You practically ordered him to eat and he...obeyed. It was like you guys were speaking a different language for a minute."

"Well, that's hardly new." Freya piped up, "From what I've witnessed those two have all kinds of silent conversations. It's like they have their own bandwidth they can tune into, but no one else can."

That comparison wasn't too far from the truth, Camille thought dryly as she took note of the various degrees of agreement once again.

"Yeah, but this was different. It was like she compelled him or something."

She frowned, "How often are you guys watching us?"

A smile quirked on Elijah's lips as he shared a knowing glance with his sister. Hayley raised a brow as Marcel and Vincent hid grins behind their drinks.

"You have no idea, do you?" Hayley uttered sagely.

"No idea of what?"

A few breathy chuckles broke the tense atmosphere and Camille blinked.

"Klaus is different with you, Cami." Hayley pointed out, but she could see Cami didn't fully comprehend, "He's more patient, protective. He acts like an honest to God person with you, more than that he treats you like one."

In her favor, Camille had known that he was more gentle with her than most others, but she didn't think it was a huge difference. She also didn't think their interactions warranted such close scrutiny

"I know – I know he loves me." Camille said carefully, it felt strange to verbalize those words, "But I didn't think you guys were watching us like we're the local telenovela."

Marcel bit back another grin, "It's fun to see that Klaus isn't all bite and bark. And admittedly, he is dramatic enough to have his own show."

Hayley snorted as the thought took root, "Really, we should write a book about our lives. We may end up getting a movie deal or something."

"As long as we don't sparkle." Elijah interjected drolly, "Honestly, who would be terrified of a vampire who sparkles?"

Laughter erupted in the common room and Cami felt herself relax into the couch cushions as Elijah's comment ignited a storm of banter. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Hope woke and cried plaintively from her room. Camille could no longer hear it, but all the vampires suddenly shifted their attention and Hayley was out the door before anyone could say a word.

It was mere minutes later she came in with the cranky toddler. Camille smiled softly as she watched mother and daughter. So much time had been stolen from both that it always warmed her heart when she was able to see these precious moments. Yet, as she watched the duo, dread began to pool in her belly.

Would that be her? Would she have to battle for every second with her child should she be pregnant?

Klaus and Hayley had done nothing but fight to keep their little girl safe since she had been born. She would be doing the same thing... and Camille had the distinct impression that Klaus would be as unwilling to let her depart to a remote area with their child as he had been with Hope. He had loathed every second that his daughter had been removed from his home and she couldn't blame him. It would kill her to have to stay away from her child in order to keep him or her safe.

So lost in her thoughts she barely noticed Davina's arrival or Klaus's return until a styrofoam container was placed in her lap. She blinked as she noticed quite a few bags and boxes being set out. He had gotten enough food for an army, but then she had seen the way Vincent, Hayley, and Freya put away food.

Concerned cerulean eyes locked onto hers and Camille realized that Klaus had been taken on her emotional rollercoaster ride. She smiled reassuringly at him, but his arched brow let her know that he wasn't prepared to let it go. Which was fine. They would need to have a series of difficult discussions once the group meeting was over. She cast a pointed gaze to the room, and he nodded in understanding but sent her a look of his own that clearly communicated that they would talk later.

She barely refrained from rolling her eyes and turned her attention to the box on her lap. Her mouth watered as familiar smells floated through the air.

An appreciative grin lit her face as she took in the gourmet burger and fries that he had brought her. Klaus's idea of substantial was barely a step above fast food it seemed – but then she also had the notion that he had been looking at efficiency as much as quality.

Klaus slipped next to her and opened the packets of salt and pepper and made a small mountain on the inside of the lid. She passed him the spare napkin from her box before removing the pickle from her burger. Condiments passed between them, as did a handful of fries with little thought. Camille didn't look up until Klaus set a bottle of water next to her and found everyone staring at them.

Klaus was munching on her fries when he followed her gaze, "...What?"

"You guys didn't even speak," Hayley murmured mystified, barely noting Hope stealing a fry from her plate.

Freya held up her drink pointedly, "I told you. Bandwidth."

Klaus frowned bemused as he turned an inquiring glance toward Camille. For her part, she had pointedly taken a bite from her burger feeling a strange chasm of exasperation and embarrassment. She barely held in the urge to stick her tongue out.

Klaus blinked and decided he was better off not knowing.

"So, Klaus is back. What did you guys do?" Marcel pressed impatiently, "I mean, Vincent and I were pouring through everything you had in that storage room for a miracle when Freya called us."

Klaus and Camille exchanged a loaded look as she tepidly asked, "How far back do we start this story?"

"Probably best to go all the way back." Klaus answered reluctantly before sighing, "By all means, love, tell them our little secret."

"What secret?" Hayley blurted.

Curiosity shined at them from all corners of the room. Klaus arched a brow but deferred to Camille. He would let her tell as much or as little of their story as she wished.

Camille shifted uncomfortably, feeling strangely like a little kid tattling, "Well, Klaus and I didn't meet three years ago. We met six – no, it's been almost seven, seven years ago."

There was a moment of stunned silence before of cacophonous storm of questions erupted.

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#Disintegration #the originals #klaus x camille #The Orginals fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #klaus mikaelson #camille o'connell #klamille

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higuchimon · 3 years

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[fanfic] Answers To Unexpected Questions: chapter 1

Juudai enjoyed napping under trees. He wondered at times if that had anything to do with being the Herald of the Gentle Darkness: he liked spending his time in the shadows whenever he could.

Or maybe he just liked to sleep and it was most comfortable when he did so in the dark. Wasn’t it like that for most people anyway?

Well, regardless, he stretched himself out underneath an oak tree and folded his arms behind his head. He wasn’t alone – but he wasn’t ever alone and he liked that – but he wasn’t not alone, either. Pharaoh curled up not that far away, but there wasn’t any sign of Daitoukuji-sensei.

Yubel’s fingers carded through his hair. He hadn’t sensed them emerging from within him, but that was fine. He hadn’t been paying that much attention in the first place. He did like the feeling of their hands in his hair, too. So comfortable… so relaxed…

Yubel’s laugh pulled him just the tiniest bit from sleep and he cracked one eye open to look upwards.

“What’s so funny?” Yubel didn’t normally laugh at him unless he’d done something. Granted, almost anything could spark that, but he’d been here peacefully trying to nap.

“You don’t change in some ways, Juudai,” Yubel murmured, leaning down toward him. “You always fall asleep the first chance that you get.”

He stuck his tongue out. “So? I’m awake when I need to be.” He was still a growing boy – using his powers did take a lot of energy and he had to restore it somehow, didn’t he? - and what was wrong with resting, as long as he was awake when he needed to be?

Yubel chuckled again, still caressing his hair. “Nothing at all. But it reminds me of our first life together.”

First life. He remembered that, more or less, though there were gaps in it. The memories had come fitting back in, like pieces of a puzzle, ever since that last duel of theirs. Two years, maybe three by now, and he had almost the whole thing.

He closed his eyes now and thought over it, trying to work out what was missing, now that Yubel brought it up.

He could remember meeting Yubel, the last survivor of a bandit raid in a tiny village outside of the main city. They’d both been so young then: not even five, he thought. But his father Aodh and his mother Kaien agreed to take Yubel in, giving protection that Yubel wouldn’t have had otherwise.

And giving him a friend that he wouldn’t have had otherwise as well.

His mind ranged up and down through the past, picking out random things, most of them related to Yubel. Yubel always shone strong in his memories and he enjoyed that.

“Yubel,” he murmured, one particular thought ticking at him. “Did I really have to go home naked after someone stole my clothes?”

Again a laugh but he understood why this time. “Yes, you did. I had to fly you there to make sure you didn’t catch a cold. And to make sure no one else saw their prince naked.”

Juudai wrinkled his nose. That didn’t exactly feel like his proudest moment.

Something else slipped into his thoughts and he took another look at those memories. Having enough for two lifetimes wasn’t a comfortable thing at times but he wanted to be certain on this, now that it had occurred to him.

“Yubel,” he said at last, once he was certain of it. “I think I just noticed something.” It had been there all along, but he’d never paid that much attention to it. He’d always had so much else that needed to be doing.

Yubel made a questioning noise. Their thoughts frequently entwined around each other, but Yubel tended not to know what was on his mind – and vice versa – unless they put the actual effort into doing so. That wasn’t a thing that needed doing very often. Usually only in worst-case scenarios, which this wasn’t.

“You’ve always protected me. But the first time around it was different.” He frowned, then shook his head. “No, that’s not right. Now is what’s different. What was different. When I was a kid.”

He peeked up enough to see Yubel looking back at him and sighed. “Okay. The first life together, when I was the Prince of Kuragari and you were changed for me, you protected me like… well, if someone actually attacked me. Or tried to attack me. Like that idiot who thought he could stab me in the back.”

Yubel did a lot of painful things to him. Juudai hadn’t exactly been upset about it then and he wasn’t now. Attempted murder, especially attempted murder of him, wasn’t something you dealt with via a slap on the wrist.

Besides, given the laws in Kuragari about trying to attack the royal family, the attempted assassin probably got off easy.

He dragged his thoughts back to the present, wanting to ask what was on his mind.

“But when I was a kid this time, it was different. You attacked anyone who dueled me and won. They weren’t really trying to kill me, and I think you knew that.” He peered up again. Yubel’s expression was unreadable, even for him. “You killed people, Yubel.” He did what he could not to sound accusing. He wasn’t accusing Yubel of anything.

Besides, accusing meant there was some form of doubt. He knew that Yubel killed them. Yubel knew that Yubel killed them. He just wanted to know why Yubel had killed them.

“I know. I will not say I wish I hadn’t done it. But there is a reason behind it.”

Juudai said nothing out loud, but his entire body vibrated with the need to know. This was one of the things that wasn’t in his memory, if he’d ever known it to begin with.

“Juudai, do you remember how you died?”

He blinked, ruffled through his memories one more time, then shook his head. “Why do you ask?” That was something else he didn’t remember.

Or maybe they were same thing. He reached a hand toward Yubel and caught those long fingers in his own. “Is that why? Because I died?”

How alone had Yubel been and for how long?

Yubel drew in a breath and he knew that Yubel didn’t need to breathe, not like humans did, anyway.

“Let me show you.” Before he could answer, Yubel raised their other hand to silence him. “It will not be easy on either of us. You will not see it as if you were watching television or a movie. You will live it once more. That is the only way I can show it to you.”

It wouldn’t be like when he’d gained the important memories of their past together, Yubel was saying. He’d watched those from a distance, recovering the sense and importance of them as he did. This would be something else altogether.

He nodded. “That’s all right.” He wanted to know. He wanted to understand Yubel.

Yubel considered again, then nodded. “Take us to Neo-Space, Juudai. It’s better to do this where you are safe.”

And there wasn’t anywhere in any world safer for him than Neo-Space. He nodded and called for Pharaoh, tucking the tubby cat down into his backpack. It would be easier to carry him there for this kind of trip than anywhere else.

The Neo-Spacians greeted Juudai when he and Yubel arrived there, Pharaoh leaping out of his backpack as soon as he stood on solid ground again. The cat sniffed around, found a streak of comfortable grass, and curled up to resume his interrupted nap. Juudai appreciated Pharaoh’s appreciation of sleep.

“Good to see you when we’re not fighting,” Aqua Dolphin said, poking his head out of the water. “Just visiting?”

“Pretty much,” Juudai said, finding a place he could be comfortable at himself. “Yubel wants to show me some things from my past life.”

Aqua Dolphin nodded, giving a polite glance to Yubel at the same time. Juudai wasn’t sure of how Yubel interacted with the other members of his deck and figured if there was a big problem, either Yubel or the Neo-Spacians or the Elemental Heroes or Hane Kuriboh would tell him about it.

He had a lot of monsters in his deck, he knew, and he considered each and every one of them one of his dearest friends. Though Yubel remained a friend of an entirely different order entirely.

“This could take some time,” Yubel promised him, getting into place behind him, warm arms embracing him, wings tilting over him a little.

“That’s all right,” Juudai said. “I don’t need to be anywhere for a while anyway. As long as it doesn’t take a week.”

“It shouldn’t take more than a few hours.”

Juudai could deal with that. Being in Yubel’s arms like this brought back so many gloriously happy memories. He closed his eyes at Yubel’s direction. Power stirred, slow and deep and rich, folding all around him. Nothing to fear at all; he was where he was safest, in Neo-Space and in Yubel’s arms.

Slowly his eyes closed and he let himself, Yuuki Juudai of the modern world, slip away completely. Prince Juudai of Kuragari enfolded him, as did the past of so very long ago.

Prince Juudai lounged in his chair, trying to keep his focus and his eyes open and not doing a very good job of it. If there was one thing he found more boring than his long-ago lessons, it was listening to his father doing the general business of running the kingdom.

Well, not all of the general business, because he had people who managed most of it for him, but having to interact with ambassadors and messengers from other kingdoms and the far distant corners of Kuragari itself was something the king or queen had to take care of. Sometimes even Juudai had to lend a hand, if there were matters that his parents couldn’t quite be openly involved in.

This wasn’t one of those. This was a report from one of the borderlands.

“We’ve done our best, Majesty,” the messenger reported. Juudai had heard this king of thing before. He knew the usual words that followed it would report some kind of victory. Kuragari wasn’t a superpower, but few people would’ve thought it wise to attack the home of the Herald of the Gentle Darkness.

His home.

“Our people were pushed back and three border towns have fallen.”

Juudai’s eyes flashed open at once. He’d never heard of that before. He straightened up and looked quickly to his father.

King Aodh leaned forward, worry in his own eyes. “Survivors? Prisoners?”

“Only a handful of the outposts there survived and they’re trying to regroup to see if they can accomplish anything while they’re still there. We haven’t taken any prisoners, but a few of ours were taken.”

Aodh let out a long and sad sigh. “They’re lost to us, then.”

Juudai frowned. “Father, why would that be? Just because they’re captured doesn’t mean they’re dead or would turn traitor.” How could his father have so little faith in their people?

“Juudai.” Aodh considered his words, then shook his head. “I’ll explain this to you later. Let me finish this.”

Juudai still didn’t understand, but he trusted his father to do what was best for the people. He’d have to do something like that one day, though not for one kingdom.

Once the king finished giving orders, the two of them headed to a quiet place: the royal gardens. This wasn’t an unusual way for them to spend some peaceful time together after royal duties, but Juudai quickly got the feeling this wasn’t going to be as peaceful as all that.

“Juudai,” Aodh said once they’d walked for a short time. “I know that you know we’ve had problems on the borders for some time now.”

He nodded. “I didn’t think it was all that serious, though.” How could it be? Their army remained strong and fought bravely. How could they be defeated by what was little more than a fringe mercenary group?

“I didn’t either, until recently. This enemy we face is far more than I expected.”

Aodh fell silent for a few moments. What he said after that sent chills all through Juudai.

“This army isn’t here to fight us, though they will if there is no choice, and I have struggled hard to give them no choice. They are here to fight you.”

Juudai’s words froze in his throat. People would want to fight him? To face him directly. He’d known such a thing was possible but for it to happen? For people to die or worse because of him?

“I wasn’t certain until I received more information this morning, and that report only confirmed it. The force we face is powered by the Light of Ruin itself. It takes many forms, but now it walks this world as a great sorcerer, who has taken over the minds of their followers. They will fight without hesitation or reluctance, throwing their lives away not only to take our land, but to reach the city here, and take you.”

Aodh sighed. “I knew this was a possibility from the moment we knew who you would become. This is why I asked Yubel to take on the body of a dragon, to protect you. Your power is still young and unformed within you. But if they can take you, there is much that they could do to you.”

Juudai didn’t want to hear any of that. He wanted to live out his days as he had so far, thoroughly enjoying himself with Yubel and his friends, looking forward to when he would be free to travel the world as he’d always wanted to.

But the words kept on coming. “With Yubel, you are defended. If they can destroy Yubel -”

“But they can’t!” Juudai shook his head, firm in this. “Yubel can’t be destroyed, you know that, father!” That was part of what made Yubel Yubel. He’d seen powerful attacks on Yubel fizzle away without so much as a breath of harm. Nothing even the Light of Ruin could do would hurt his beloved Yubel. Even if it could, he wouldn’t allow it.

He almost didn’t notice the way the shadows in the garden writhed to his anger. His father rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Relax yourself, my son. There is no danger at this moment. The Light’s warriors are to be guarded against and watched for, but no need to panic now.”

Slowly Juudai fought himself back to control. He needed to get better with that, he knew.

He could also feel Yubel somewhere nearby. Yubel wouldn’t interrupt his time with his father, but would make certain he stayed safe regardless.

“Yubel cannot be destroyed, but there are ways that could confine their power, and yours as well. Nothing in this world is perfect. I have done my best to protect both of you.” Aodh turned a warm gaze toward his son. “It is not impossible that we will put a halt to them before they come close to the city. I have plans to deal with them. But I cannot guarantee their success. You must be ready. Both of you must be ready, no matter what happens.”

Juudai squared up his shoulders and met his father’s eyes. “I’ll be ready.” They wanted to come for him? Then they would find it wasn’t such an easy thing to take him.

Aodh nodded before he turned toward a nearby tree and made a beckoning gesture. “I think perhaps the two of you should spend what quiet time together that you can.”

Yubel stepped from behind the tree, giving a courteous nod to the king at the same moment. All of Yubel’s true attention remained on Juudai, which surprised neither Aodh nor his son. From the moment those two met one another, they’d been the most important person in their respective lives.

“I will protect him even if it costs me my life, my king,” Yubel promised, coming over to Juudai.

“It had better not!” Juudai snapped, one arm going around Yubel’s waist as he leaned against their searing hot skin. Yubel was a dragon now and that reflected in virtually all parts of them. “I don’t want it to cost anything!”

“Everything has a cost,” Aodh said, though his words seemed more directed at himself than Juudai or Yubel. He bid them farewell and by the time he’d taken ten steps away, neither of the two noticed anything but one another. But no one else would’ve expected otherwise.

Yubel looked down at Juudai. His eyes shifted restlessly as he relived those last days, looking so much as if he merely dreamed.

Yubel wished it could be only a dream, that they’d lived a long and peaceful life with Juudai, instead of the scant handful of years they’d had then.

But that was then. This was now. Now they were united as they’d never been in the past, and Juudai had his responsibilities well in hand. There wasn’t anything else to distract either of them from what was most important.

The Neo-Spacians weren’t the only ones watching them now. Yubel had only to look up to see them all there: the Elemental Heroes, especially Neos, and Hane Kuriboh rested not that far away, watching. They could not see what was going on, but the Heroes knew it all the same, and kept their newer deck-mates advised.

For the Elemental Heroes had been Juudai’s bodyguard almost as long as Yubel had. They watched him as any bodyguard would watch their charge. Yubel had other duties, that involved defending him against the Light, no matter the cost.

And yet I failed in the end.

That was what Yubel couldn’t quite say to Juudai. That in the end, despite all the best intentions, they’d failed anyway.

But he would find that out soon enough, and Yubel wouldn’t have kept it from him anyway. If he hadn’t asked, they would’ve told him eventually.

Perhaps it was better this way. These were all of his own memories; all Yubel did was bring them to where he could experience them in a deeper way than ever before.

And there still remained much for him to learn.

To Be Continued

Notes: Well, this is a tale I've had in mind for a while now, and I finally wrote it. It's all finished already (a trend I hope to continue) so posting will be regular for the next couple of weeks.

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #ygo gx #yuuki juudai #yubel #yubel x juudai #juudai x yubel #soulshipping #chapters: answers to unexpected questions #series: past & future

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dragoon-of-all-trades · 4 years

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My wings may be weaker, but I still will hold onto hope for something better.

I just need to verbal barf about the situation to make myself feel a bit better. This person isn’t on here, so I don’t have to worry about them seeing it. More below the cut, because I don’t want to bore people.

A few days ago I had to say goodbye to someone I had taken the chance to know since 2014. It was a sobering moment where I realized the abuse and not feeling good enough in that friendship wasn’t worth it anymore, and I was just tired.

I approached them when they had suddenly come back after a year long hiatus after being dumped by their boyfriend of 11 years. When she returned she kept putting depressing second names on her site making me ask if she was okay. She was shocked I’d notice as nobody else cared to, but I was concerned for her (I was just an admirer of her art prior).

We talked and I tried to distract her mind but a few days later she made a huge vent piece where she just couldn’t take it and felt soulless and debated leaving again. I didn’t want her to, and I didn’t think an image with a heartfelt meaning would do anything, but I tried. I did a small comic of her being picked up by her favorite character and telling her that her story wasn’t over yet. It was the first time in several years she felt hope or something to that effect, so out of all the pieces in my galleries, I consider that one a triumph.

However, after only 4 months, she fell back into her depressive slump. I knew it wouldn’t be a fix all, but I was happy to have given her something. I should have just seen this sign and knew that I should have kept her at a distance…

Long story short, we continued to be there for one another to the best of our abilities (as we both have depression and what not). We drew gifts for each other and I helped her out with her character ideas when she asked for advice, and we probably wrote like 5 page messages to one another in email just to keep ourselves distracted.

However, what I slowly began to uncover about her made me uneasy. When I found out her relationship ended because the guy was cheating on her since a month in but she refused to dump him because she was that eager for love, I got anxious. There was even a moment where she told me to my face she’d give up all her friends for one boyfriend. It really hurt to hear that I could be that easily replaced. Hell, when I got into any relationships with men she’d express her jealousy and start venting more on her own page (what a friend…). Well, come 2016, she snapped one day. It was like she was angry that all my hope and talks of how things would probably get better were all for nothing in those past few years, and she launched an all out verbal attack against me.

She did come back to apologize, but the fact I told her angrily I wasn’t going anywhere and she couldn’t chase me off…I shouldn’t have done that. The moment that mask fell off, I should have taken the sign as a ‘get the fuck out, you have your own demons to battle’, but I didn’t.

For the next several years I did everything to carry her woes and problems on my back, ignoring how often she’d sink her teeth and claws into my skin as if she was using me as her own verbal punching bag. I was worried about her, and I wanted to hope something good would come for her, because I wanted to believe she was a good person inside regardless of how increasingly frustrated I was getting as time went on. I mean, you can pray for a better life, but if you do nothing to make it better, you have yourself to blame, and that’s basically how it went with her—the world was to blame, not her. Regardless, the more I tried to comment on her art and tried to be there for her, the more dismissive she’d become. What further hurt was how she’d embrace her lifelong friend in the comments who only seemed to show back up for art trades and the fact I suddenly was around after her big fall apart. Then she’d turn around and instantly tell me in her own roundabout way to ‘fuck off’ and that my kindness and affection meant nothing to her.

I finally had enough and vaguely vented about it on the website we were on together. She apparently KNEW what she was doing, because when no names were mentioned, she called herself out about it and basically said she had been walking on eggshells around me while also reminding me all the great things she did for me and how thankful I should be for them.

Don’t get me wrong—I'm super grateful for the things she did both artistically and financially. I love her for them, but that doesn’t mean you can get a free pass to raise your hand and slap the ever-loving crap out of me and face no repercussion…

At first, I was shaken, but the more I sat and thought about it, the more I realized I was shaking for her. I was worried what would become of her now because another friend ‘showed their true colors of being a villain in her eyes’. All those years I had warped my brain into only focusing on her, and that’s the unhealthiest thing I could do to myself. I think when she saw me taking steps away to focus on myself and not focus on her all the time, she grew resentful. She hated me for also giving her a reason to keep living and breathing when nothing became of it right away. I honestly don’t know what to say to that last part…It hurts thinking that someone would hate me for trying to save them. What further hurts is her abusive, manipulative ex who cheated on her for so long got many second chances, but I get none, because I cannot give her the love she wants, I guess. That REALLY hurts knowing my gender is a factor in how quickly she’ll say goodbye.

So, forgive my quiet and weird behavior. I'm just kinda healing from that friendship abuse. It’s been so many years, and I'm just so exhausted. It is nice to breathe again finally.

#just vent art #i needed to vent lol #it's not great sorry #abuse #manipulation #myart #artwork #wings #tears #pain #emotional #digital painting #digital artwork

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prissyhalliwell · 6 years

Text

Summary: Mr. Gold has been working for the dinner theatre company “The Enchanted Forest” for years, performing the same boring show every weekend. Nothing has ever changed, until Belle French joins the cast to play its princess.

~ Winner of Best Mr. Gold in the 2016 TEA Awards ~

Chapter One I Chapter Two I Chapter Three I Chapter Four I Chapter Five I Chapter Six I Chapter Seven I Chapter Eight I Read on AO3

Prompt: They're up on the lights together, both of them needing time away from the rest of the cast.

Prompt: Belle brings in an old photo of her and Gold after a show back when she was in high school and she stayed for autographs. He is delighted she held onto it, but it reminds him of how young she is and, most especially, how old he is.

Chapter Nine

Gold watched in half-amusement, half-concern as Belle paced back and forth in front of him, twisting her notebook in her hands.

They had a meeting scheduled at nine o’clock with Sidney to discuss Belle’s idea. It was only half past eight now, but Belle had made him promise to meet her early, so they could talk things over again. She’d claimed the extra preparation would make her feel better, but Gold was starting to suspect that the extra time was only making her more stressed out.

“What if he doesn’t like the idea?” she asked nervously, pausing to look up at him. “What if he thinks it’s stupid?”

“Then we respect his decision and complain about it in private later.” Gold winked at her, but she didn’t laugh. He reached out and laid a hand on her arm, stopping her before she could start pacing again. “Hey, it’s going to be fine. It’s a wonderful idea.”

When Belle still didn’t look reassured, he gave her arm a gentle pull. He needed to get Belle’s mind off the coming meeting and he had just the thing to do it. “Come along, I have something I want to show you.”

He’d had the idea the other day when he’d been helping Gepetto fix one of the lights. He knew Belle had probably been up on plenty of catwalks during her college theater days, since most theatre courses included some stage crew training.

But to his knowledge, she hadn’t been up on this catwalk.

“Where are you taking me?” Belle asked as he led her backstage.

“I think I know a way to make the meeting seem less scary.”

Belle gave him a skeptical look. “Really? And how are you going to do that?”

He gestured to the spiral staircase behind him. “Fancy a trip up to the grid?”

Belle’s eyes grew wide. “Now?”

“Nothing like being two stories up in the air to put a meeting with your boss in perspective.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but dug her phone out of her pocket, setting it and her notebook on a nearby table. “Alright, I’m ready.”

He set his own phone and wallet on the table as well. It was never a good idea to take any items up on the lights that you didn’t absolutely need. Any employee of the theatre was aware how dangerous a phone or other item could be when dropped from two stories above onto an unsuspecting crew member’s head.

As much as he wouldn’t mind if that person was Killian, he figured it wasn’t worth the lawsuit.

Grabbing a flashlight from the wall, he clipped it to his belt, making sure it was secure before he and Belle began making their way up the staircase.

With Belle following right behind him, he was distinctly aware of how close they were, making him rethink the wisdom of taking her up on the lights. Though it was more dusty than romantic, they’d still be up there all alone.

Suddenly, his brilliant idea didn’t seem so great, after all.

As usual, the stairs seemed to go on forever, but finally they reached the metal catwalk that served as the lighting grid. From there, they could see the arena below them, as well as the front of the stage.

Gold gazed down at the set proudly. No matter how many times he had been up here, he never got tired of seeing it from this view. He probably spent more time walking across that stage than he did in his own house. Far from being his home away from home, Gold realized that in the past ten years, The Enchanted Forest had become his true home.

He was glad he hadn’t quit, and not just because of Belle. Gold never would have forgiven himself if he had left and the company had gone under. He still wasn’t sure what he could do to help, but he would do whatever he could to keep his little theatre going.

He glanced over at Belle, who was busy taking in the view. They stood in silence for several moments, just enjoying the experience. Only a few people were in the building right now, leaving the theatre oddly silent. Most of the stage crew would be in soon, but for now, the two of them had the whole auditorium to themselves.

“It’s like another world up here,” she whispered.

He nodded. “I love the view. I find myself looking at things differently after being up here.”

“I’ve been doing that a lot lately,” Belle said, grimacing. “And that’s without the two-story change in perspective.”

“Anything I can help with?”

She looked over at him, big blue eyes searching his. “I’m...not sure.”

In the low light, he could almost imagine that the way Belle was looking at him meant more than it did. She looked so hopeful, as if he somehow held the key to her happiness.

But that was ridiculous. Only last week she had shot down Marian’s suggestion that they were a couple as a laughable joke.

If so, that didn’t explain why she was looking at him the way she was now. It was almost enough to make him believe that perhaps he had been wrong - maybe there was something there, after all.

Either way, now wasn’t the time to act on it. If he was wrong, he’d only make things more stressful for Belle before their meeting with Sidney. If he was right...well, he’d hardly want to go to a meeting with Sidney when he could be making out with Belle.

Best to wait in either case until he could be certain. Being safely on the ground probably wouldn’t hurt either. If Belle actually returned his feelings, he could very well swoon to his death from this height.

“We should get going,” he said, breaking whatever spell had fallen upon them. “We don’t want to be late.”

Belle’s expression fell and she nodded. Gold’s heart gave a bit of a flutter. Perhaps he wasn’t just imagining things.

They walked back down to the ground level in silence, concentrating on where they were stepping until they made it safely to the stage.

“I forgot how dusty it is up there!” Belle frowned down at her clothes, brushing them off vigorously. “I look like a dust bunny.”

Gold chuckled as he brushed himself down. “But a very charming dust bunny.”

She shot him a mock glare. “If Sidney starts sneezing during this meeting, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

He held a hand to his heart. “I would deserve nothing less,” he replied solemnly.

Belle rolled her eyes at him, but there was no real annoyance behind it. Gold considered the adventure a success. If his suspicions about Belle’s feelings proved correct, he’d consider it a miracle, as well.

They had just enough time to get to the meeting without having to hurry. As they arrived outside of Sidney’s closed door, Belle grabbed his hand, giving it a quick squeeze.

“Thank you.”

The feel of her skin, soft and warm against his own, momentarily short circuited his brain. “For w-what?” he stuttered.

Her smile sent another wave of warmth through him. “For being you.”

Before he could think of a reply, she gave his hand a quick squeeze and then let it go, raising her hand to knock on Sidney’s door. At their boss’s yell to come in, Gold followed Belle inside, unsure of why he was suddenly much more nervous than he had been only a minute before.

The meeting went smoothly, with both Sidney and Tiana loving Belle’s idea, as he had predicted. He’d known Tiana would jump onboard right away and that she’d tow her father along whether he liked it or not, but Sidney was just as enthusiastic as his daughter.

Once she’d realized her audience was in support, Belle’s nerves had fallen away. They’d spent the rest of the meeting discussing the details and making plans to begin holding classes soon.

As they made their way back to the staff lounge an hour later, Belle let out a tiny squeal, twirling around in place.

“We did it!” she yelled, stepping towards him.

Gold raised his hand, thinking she was moving to give him a high five, and was taken back when she threw her arms around him, hugging him fiercely.

“Thank you again,” she said, the sound slightly muffled by his hair.

“Glad to help,” he managed to say, still unsure of where to put his arms. His brain had several ideas that were incredibly unhelpful, so he settled on placing his hands around her lower back.

She pulled back a short time later, smiling sheepishly at him. “We make a really good team, you know.”

He swallowed. “I’ve noticed. Maybe...maybe we could - ”

August stepped out into the hallway, eyeing their embrace. “Practice is this way, folks.”

They quickly dropped their arms, ignoring the smirk on their director’s face and following him to rehearsal. Gold wasn’t sure if he should curse August’s untimely interruption or thank him for it. He wasn’t exactly sure what he had been about to say, which meant he most likely would have stumbled his way through it as usual. No, it would be much better for both of them if he came up with something beforehand. The day would be busy getting ready for the performance, but perhaps after the show had ended, he might be able to steal a few moments with Belle to finish whatever he had been about to say earlier.

His time seemed to come later in the lobby that night as the lines of audience members began to dwindle. He made his way over to Belle, who was talking to the last three fans in her line. He recognized them as the teen girls who had visited previously, and silently hoped that they would be leaving soon so he could talk to Belle alone.

As he drew closer, he saw one of the girls hand Belle an open book. The contents of the book must have surprised Belle, because her eyes grew wide, her mouth forming a small “o”.

“What’s that?” Gold asked, curious about what had caused such a reaction.

Her eyes leapt up to his. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, holding what he now recognized as a yearbook closer to her chest. “You wouldn’t be interested.”

The blonde teenager snatched the book out of Belle’s hand and held it up to him excitedly, pointing to a photograph on one page. “It’s a picture of you and Belle!”

Gold’s eyes zeroed in on a teenage Belle standing next to a slightly younger version of himself, clad in his chancellor costume. She looked so young, beaming up at the camera, as the “younger” him, looking old enough to be her father, gave his typical perfunctory smile.

“Splendid,” he said, his stomach sinking. “I’m so glad you showed me this.”

Author’s Note: Apologies to whoever sent in these wonderful prompts! I think Tumblr ate the original asks, so if either is yours please tell me and I’ll give you credit. Also, huge thanks to @b-does-the-write-thing for teaching me about lights. She is the only reason anything in this chapter is accurate.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #Welcome to the Enchanted Forest #wttef

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laikagohome · 6 years

Text

Introduction: This is an interview with the manga author Yoshida Takashi. The original article is here: http://mangaonweb.com/news/2018/01/27/448. There are some interesting opinions in it, so I decided to translate it.

If you asked which ebook people are talking about the most right now, there would probably be many people who would mention the name “Yaretakamo Iinkai.” It’s always up there on the sales rankings of each of the digital bookstores, its live drama adaptation begins on January 27th on Abema TV, people are always talking about it on the net whenever there’s a new chapter, and its paper publication is slated for a second printing -- just to name a few things it’s got going for it. It really is a major-level grand slam.

The reason for its success is, of course, how interesting it is. But that’s not all, there’s another unexpected hidden aspect to this work that deserves some attention. The creator of this work, Yoshida Takashi-san, actually manages the copyright of this work on his own and takes care of everything from the writing to the sales. The publication of “Yaretakamo Iinkai” isn’t exclusive to any magazine put out by a publisher. The creator publishes his works on each web platform independently and makes a living using the royalties he earns from them as a source of income. The only contract he’s signed with a publisher is for the paper edition of the work to distribute it to bookstores, but he manages the digital version, drama adaptation, and such all himself. He doesn’t have to deal with any restrictions and can create his works freely. In other words, the work is one that is produced in an almost completely indie style.

It’s quite rare for a creator to be able to make this a reality. If you consider all the ins and outs of the publicity and distribution for a work, the contract negotiations, production costs, etc., taking care of it all on your own would require an extraordinary amount of labor. A single creator standing against the world without that ever-critical factor -- the backing of a major company -- would face extreme difficulties.

Why did Yoshida-san choose a path filled with such hardships? What’s really going on behind the scenes? How was he able to parlay that into the success that he has now? Let’s hear what the man himself has to say.

“Yaretakamo Iinkai” Yoshida Takashi Special Interview

The Royalties from Digital Publications Exceeded 1 Million Yen per Month

The drama adaptation has begun airing, and now people are talking about “Yaretakamo Iinkai” even more, but it’s not being serialized in any particular magazine. It’s a comic that gets tweeted about pretty regularly, but there are also probably a lot of people who are wondering how the creator makes money. Could you tell us a bit about what’s actually going on and how that works?

Yoshida Takashi:

To begin with, there are four platforms that my work is published on. “cakes,” “note,” “PixivFANBOX,” and “Manga on Web.” The way things are structured on “cakes,” “note,” and “PixivFANBOX” is that you only get the royalties for your works that people buy on each of the sites. From those three sites combined, I make around 100,000 to 110,000 yen a month. “Manga on Web” is an online magazine. You can buy it in all of the domestic digital bookstores. The agreement there is that I make a fixed amount of money from it, the minimum publication fee, as well as royalties that correspond to the amount of sales that the magazine makes. If anything could be called a "manuscript fee," then that would probably be it.

And then there’s income that I make from the royalties on the paper tankoubon as well as the digital versions. The other day, I got the royalties from the digital books for the first time. It was over 1 million yen for a single month. I’m a bit anxious about what will happen to the taxes I’ll have to pay for next year, but it’d be great if it kept selling at this pace.

Making over 1 million yen in a month on one book is pretty amazing. If you were talking about royalties from a paper publication, that would be about the amount you’d make if you sold 15,000 copies. It’d be a dream to get that much every month. Why did you decide to make your money writing in this way anyway? Please tell us a bit about the circumstances of how you came to draw “Yareta Iinkai.”

Yoshida:

Well, it’s not like I intended to do things the way I’m doing them now from the very beginning. At the start, I was just going to try to do things like any regular mangaka. I did the normal assistant thing, sent in an entry for a newcomer’s award that a publisher was running, and my gag manga “Finland Saga (Sei)” got serialized in Morning Two, but that ended in 2011. The tankoubon didn’t seem to sell very well. After the series ended, I brought in the name for my next work to the Morning editorial department, but I couldn’t get it past them at all. Like, really… it was almost like they had tacitly decided they weren’t going to allow me to have another series (laugh.)

I had no other choice, so I took the rejected names and turned them into manuscripts and sent them all over the place for newcomer awards at other publishers and magazines. One of the shorts I included in those was “Yaretakamo Iinkai.” It got noticed in the newcomer's award for Shougakukan's Superior magazine, and received an honorable mention. That was in 2013, but I had actually written “Yaretakamo Iinkai” a long time ago before that. I was assigned an editor, and I wanted to write the second chapter of it, but the editor said that the material was only good for a oneshot and wouldn’t let me draw a follow-up. I drew another name on some other subject and brought it in, but that didn’t get greenlit either.

While I was doing all of that, another 2 years passed, and in the meantime, I continued to send out my manuscripts to other editorial departments and win awards for them. It was like I somehow ended up with an editor in each of the editorial departments. I started thinking, “I really can’t let this go on,” and that’s when I came up with the idea for my work named “Share Body.” I felt like I was onto something that was sort of new, so I drew three chapters worth of names and sent them around to all the editors that I’d met so far. That ended up catching the eyes of the editor at Spirits.

I Still Haven’t Read the Last Volume of “Share Body”

You didn’t get to writing “Yaretakamo Iinkai” right away, did you?

Yoshida:

That’s right. At the time, I still wanted to have a series in a commercial magazine. But that ended the worst way possible and was quite traumatic for me… The editor in charge of me at Spirits who read the name for “Share Body” said it was interesting and wanted to make it a series. I should’ve been happy about that, right? But they wanted to use it as the original story and have another mangaka draw it. Of course I wanted to draw it, since it was my own work, but none of the names I had drawn were going anywhere, and I really wanted to do a series. So, after agonizing over it, I ended up accepting that condition. Someone else did the art, the series began in September of 2015, the first tankoubon came out in January of 2016, and 5 days after it went on sale, they told us to end it. So I was out of a job by spring. My dream was over in an instant.

So after bringing in all those works to be evaluated all those times, you didn't even get to draw the series that you finally got. And it even got cancelled too. I can see how that might be traumatic.

Yoshida:

Around the time the 6th chapter got printed, the editor in charge said “It’s not doing well in the surveys, so redraw the name.” I’m the type of person who can’t draw when they’re pressured, so before the series started, I had drawn about 30 chapters worth of names ahead of time. Of course, I showed all of those to the editor, and they said it was good back then. Fixing the names was really difficult. For example, if I revised the 7th chapter, then I’d have to adjust the 23rd chapter as well, otherwise it’d be inconsistent. There were important scenes, and that’s why I’d drawn them, but when I explained that things wouldn’t make sense later if I changed them, the editor wouldn’t budge and kept going on about how the survey results were poor. Even when I brought up the fact that they’d said it was good before, they just said, “Well, it’s not.” You’d hope that if an editor said something was good, then they’d stick by it till the end.

Anyway, I couldn’t change something that I thought was already interesting into something that I found boring, so the editor and the artist came together and changed the story. The artist probably didn’t want to do something like that either -- and I don’t really want to badmouth anyone -- but I felt like if I were drawing the pictures myself in a situation with a deadline, then I could’ve at least forced my way and drawn what I’d wanted. The survey results just kept getting worse, and the series got cancelled.

In the later half of things, it was being produced in this inexplicable way where I was drawing the names for the original work, and the artist and editor would base things on that, change it, and draw the manga. Now that I think back on it, it’s a complete mockery of how to go about producing anything. We were making fools of the readers. After the name were getting changed, I couldn’t read the magazine it was being published anymore. I kept having nightmares about running people over in a car with a broken steering wheel.

From the second half of the second volume onward, it pretty much wasn’t based on what I wrote. I told them myself, “The 3rd volume isn’t really based on what I wrote, so please downgrade what I’m being credited for.” I thought that might convey to them how I felt about having the original work changed, but they replied, “Then it’s okay if we lower your percentage of the royalties, right?” So I got in a fight with them, saying, “That’s not what’s in the contract!” It was a total quagmire. In the end, I still haven’t read the last volume of “Share Body.”

I couldn’t forgive myself for releasing something that didn’t live up to my original intentions into the world, and more than anything, I had done something inexcusable to the readers. The experience was traumatic for me, and I decided not to trust the judgement of others.

I Decided on Four Things that I Would Not Give Up

You were now pretty far off from the “regular mangaka” that most people would imagine. So is that when you started to draw “Yaretakamo Iinkai” for real?

Yoshida:

No, I had already tried bringing everything I thought up, and my series failed, so there was no way left for me to do things. I started uploading my manga onto twitter. I’d upload a 20-page manga that got rejected at Morning, 1 or 2-page manga, 4-panel comics, and I had a tons of rejected names. At the time, I was doing this livestream once a month on Nico. I’d announce that I was going to go viral on the program and keep uploading my manga. Deep down, I did wonder if there was any point to it, but there wasn’t anything else I could do.

And then, around a half year later, because I was uploading stuff every day, eventually there were some things that’d get retweeted 5,000 or 10,000 times. People began taking a look at my older works from that, and it caught the attention of sites like Omokoro and net celebs like Yoppii-san. In September of 2016, “Yaretakamo Iinkai” saw the light of day.

Oh, finally! It’s easy enough to say, “I’m going to go viral in half a year,” but it’s another thing to be able to accomplish that when you have nothing to guarantee it. That’s amazing.

Yoshida:

It’s going to sound like I’m tooting my own horn a bit, but back then I really felt like I was working hard (laugh.) The first chapter hit around 200,000 views at the time. I got a flood of requests to turn it into a book right away. I think it was about 4 or 5 publishers that asked to publish it, but because “Share Body” was such a big failure, I decided to be quite careful with everything, right down to dealing with the editors. That’s when I decided there were four things that I would not give up. They were basically, “I would decide the title myself,” “I wouldn’t have any meetings about it,” “I would do the art myself,” and “I would manage the digital publication myself.” The first one may sound quite obvious, but when you get a publisher involved, the title reflects on their brand, so they make you change it often times. (Though I was able to decide the title for “Share Body.”)

The second item had to do with the same thing. There are a lot of editors that will meddle with the work, and there are a lot more people than you think who will be very heavy-handed when dealing with you because they feel like they’re the ones paying you. When I would go to meet them after they invited me to turn it into a book, they’d say, “Let’s have some meetings about this and make it together.” I turned them all down. They’d say things like, “I can come up with all sorts of ideas that could fit the story,” and go on about all these different plans they’d have, and I’d just listen to what they had to say with a smile, and then leave. I was asked if it was possible to participate in the selection process for the different episodes, but I even said no to that. It was pretty brazen of me, but my stance was, “You’re the ones that said you wanted to turn it into a book, so please just do that.”

I also wanted them to accept that I was going to do the art as something that was a given. The publisher was coming on board after the planning, so handing over the digital rights would be strange too.

That all makes sense, but it must’ve been a perilous path. I can’t imagine talks proceeded all that smoothly once you made your stance clear to the publishing companies. They probably felt like they were setting the stage to make the chances of profitability higher, and you were refusing to go along with it. Did they feel a bit like, “Why is this guy even meeting with us then?”

Yoshida:

I did get told with a sigh that they didn’t want to talk to me anymore about that sort (negotiations about the rights) of stuff (laugh.) They’d laugh and ask me, “What happened to you to make you feel this way?” “Yaretakamo Iinkai” was the first piece of work out of all the manga that I had drawn that I actually felt like was going well, so I didn’t want to change the system that I was using to produce it until it was over. The things I was asking for came from a place more of fear rather than desires. I didn’t want to have the work get messed up anymore.

You felt like you were cornered. Thinking about it normally, a company offering to publish your work would have you take down the stuff you had put up publicly on “note,” serialize it exclusively on their own media platforms or magazines, and want to sell tankoubon. Did the conversations ever turn into something like that? That’s usually the pattern of what happened to other manga that got popular on the net at least, which is why I think it’s truly impressive that you were able to present a different method of success.

Yoshida:

Naturally, I insisted on not taking down anything on the sites that I had already put up. I had all these people on the net reading my work, so what would be the point of taking it down? Even if you go viral, what you really need to value the most aren’t the publishers that will give you work but your readers.

When I see people tweeting, “My series is starting,” or, “My book is coming out,” and fans respond, “Congratulations,” I end up thinking, “It’s not worth getting that happy about,” because I got cancelled after a half a year. Delivering your work to the reader is the goal, and having a series or putting a book out is just one way to do that. I know I’m being mean about it, but it’s almost like people just want to do a series so they can tweet about how it’s about to start. Having the publisher validate you and starting your series… it feels real nice for a moment, but then they suddenly stop tweeting for a month, and you see they’re getting cancelled. The story ends in the middle of things, and they end up letting down all the readers they worked so hard to build up.

After that, the mangaka that had their series cancelled are regarded differently. They won’t let you do things by yourself next time. They’ll have you adapt someone else’s original work or pair you up with a different person to do the art. The mangaka could just part ways with the publisher at that point, but they think to themselves, “If I just listen to what I’m told, something good might happen,” so they follow the rules that get set for them. Whenever I see someone talented just doing whatever they’re told by the publisher and the original work they’re adapting is no good, I wonder why they’re doing that. Like, “They’re so talented, and it’s such a waste!”

Starting your series or putting out a book, it’s not really something to celebrate. You may not be able to see it with your eyes, but delivering a work to the readers is what you should be most happy about. Having a series or putting out a book isn’t even a completely effective way to deliver something to the readers nowadays.

Tweets Are like Dust or Pollen

If delivering something to the reader were established as the goal of the process, then the landscape of this scene should look different. It’s certainly true that just drawing whatever the publisher tells you to do won’t always lead to good results. Did you have some plan you’d concocted to succeed without joining up with a publisher though?

Yoshida:

Not at all (laugh.) It feels like it just ended up this way because I decided what I didn’t want to do, like it was a process of elimination. I went viral once, so I thought if I just quietly drew a volume's worth of material and sold a digital version, I’d probably make some money. Even if I didn’t make that much money, as long as it was enough for me to draw my next piece, that would be enough.

A big reason why other mangaka-san get fixated on the idea of a series probably has to do with getting paid a manuscript fee. I understand where they’re coming from too, but if I were aiming to become a mangaka with everything I know now, I’d draw the manga that I want in the way that I want while working a part-time job or something, and put out an ebook once a year. I probably wouldn’t sell anything at first, but I’d polish my skills while seeing what works through trial and error, and then when someone comes across my work and it goes viral, I’d sign a contract that would be advantageous for me with the publisher. That’s the method I might choose to pursue. You can still dream like that.

Futabasha, the publisher that put out the tankoubon, didn’t pay a manuscript fee, but they were okay with me keeping the works I had up on “note,” “cakes,” and “Manga on Web,” gave me the freedom to put out a digital edition, and allowed me to have creator control over any application of it for derivative works, such as movie adaptations and the like. If I had made it my goal to put out a paper book, I don’t think it would’ve turned out this way.

After hearing everything that you’ve said, I can see that you have a deeply rooted distrust of the publishing companies at your core. But at the same time, although you make use of the internet and social networks in a very proactive way, there’s also this sort of vibe that you don’t believe they’re completely awesome either. It feels like the existence of the net was indispensable for the success of the work. You could even say that the success of “Yaretakamo Iinkai” was only possible because someone famous on the net picked up on it. How do you feel about that?

Yoshida:

I was honestly thankful that they were spreading it around the net. But it didn’t really change anything about my fundamental distrust in others. I might need some counseling or something (laugh.) It’s obvious, but it’s not like I think that everyone at the publishing companies are evil and everyone on the net is good. People who work in marketing or other internet-related fields are always looking for the next big thing that people will be talking about, and are incredibly fickle, so I’m trying to remember to not get consumed by that.

Also, people in IT can create places and spaces for manga (manga sites and applications,) but they can’t actually create the content itself. They can only make the restaurants and plates; they aren’t cooks. There are tons of sites out there with someone famous supervising but no views or ones with views but no monetization system in place. There are more apps and sites now, and the places you can draw manga have exploded in number, but the creator has to be careful and needs the power to carefully examine the place where they’re going to serialize their work.

If all you do is believe in the word “serialization,” you’re going to get turned into a dancing bear to attract attention. And you might even be made to do your jig in front of an empty audience. You want to at least have an audience if you’re going to be a dancing bear.

It’s true that there’s this idea of people who work in internet-related fields swarming around something in a flash, eating all they can, and then leaving. It’s common for new services to pop up one after another, and then disappear. They all seem very transitory.

Yoshida:

I was contacted by someone working for a certain application, asking me if I wanted to put my work on it. When I went to meet that person, they kept on saying things like, “You should do it now,” “It’s now or never,” “If you do it now, it’ll definitely do well.” They just kept saying the word “now” over and over. I said to them, “It’s true that “Yaretakamo Iinkai” might just be a flash in the pan, but you don’t really have to be so blunt about it, do you?” They responded, “Sorry, that’s not what I was trying to say. Please consider putting it on our service…” The conversation didn’t go anywhere. They were trying to make things go viral in the now, and I was wanted to continue drawing manga for the long haul. It got me feeling like our sensibilities were pretty different.

Recently, I’ve gotten quite skeptical of people who approach others just because they get a lot of retweets or have a lot of followers and ask them if they want to put out a book. Numbers make things easy to distinguish, so people tend to see retweet counts and follower numbers as having some value, but is it really okay for professional editors to be trusting them?

Are you talking about how editors are starting to resemble people who work in internet-related fields?

Yoshida:

They have, haven’t they. An editor I met the other day said to me, “I found this promising creator recently with around 6,000 followers. It’s my job to turn that number into 30,000,” and I was like, “Seriously?” Apparently there’s some data that came out that said if you have 30,000 followers, 1 in 10 or 1 in 20 will buy the book. I don’t think you can really believe in any of that, but they were telling me all this sort of proudly, so I started thinking, “What’s with this guy? I really shouldn’t trust him! I can’t trust him!!” (laugh.) I think everyone’s reacting too much to numbers. I mean, we’re not dogs here.

It would be simple if all you were trying to do was get people to clap their hands together and tell you it’s good, but you need some sort of action to get people to open up their wallets and give you their money. I think the act of pushing a “like” button is about as minor as patting the head of a Jizou statue. No matter how much something gets posted on the web, when it comes to which ebooks are selling, it’s always “One Piece” or “Shingeki no Kyojin” or “Dungeon Meshi.” Twitter has nothing to do with it. I think tweets are like dust or pollen. The lighter the dust is, the further it can fly, but nobody is going to remember what was flitting around last year.

I think that something a person will pay for might need to have a certain kind of weight to it. I believe that it’s not about likes or retweets, but rather that it’s important the person who put down the money for it feels like they bought something worthwhile and will want to buy it again.

The reason why books aren’t selling has nothing to do with people reading less manga, pirate manga sites, the internet, the end of paper publishers, or ebooks.

The people who determine that lightness or weight are supposed to be the professional editors, but are you saying that’s not really the case anymore?

Yoshida:

I think so. There’s this negative current of completely trusting in fabricated numbers the worse that books sell. There’s been some recent news about how “comico” has been driving down the price they’re paying for manuscripts (though “comico” denies that to be true) and that manga tankoubon sales are half of what they used to be in the heyday of manga.

I think the two are connected. Around 2013, IT enterprises like “comico,” “LINE manga,” “GAMMA,” “Mangabox,” etc., came into the manga marketplace with ample amounts of funding. But fast forward 4 years, and I don’t think they’ve made much money. As for why, it’s because they’re using a business model where they depend on selling paper tankoubon to make money. If they could come up with a single “Shingeki no Kyojin,” then they could make it all back, but it’s not going well. Why isn’t it going well? Because tankoubon aren’t selling. And why is that? I think it’s because the number of publications have increased too much.

IT companies enter the market, comics increase, as if in opposition to this, the publishing companies make their own manga sites and applications and create even more content, they cut down on the page count to increase the numbers of volumes, and the result of that now is that the comic corner at bookstores are in complete disorder. I think it’s too much of a pain for readers to choose, so they just don’t buy manga anymore.

It’s like when a non-native creature is introduced to a pond and it ruins the ecosystem. The water gets muddy and people don’t want to approach it. They don’t know what’s interesting anymore. There are even too many books that recommend manga like “Kono Manga ga Sugoi,” “Manga Taishou,” or “Kono Manga wo Yome.”

In my opinion, the reason why books aren’t selling has nothing to do with people reading less manga, pirate manga sites, the internet, the end of paper publishers, or ebooks.

Mangaka are drawing manga that suit their editors, editors are trying to proceed with projects that suit the editor-in-chief, and IT companies are trying to hit it big on a single jackpot manga. This is the natural result of nobody paying attention to the reader.

If the market goes back to being healthy, I think that manga will start to sell again. It’s not like you can drain all the water out of the pond though, so it’s pretty tough. I don’t think you can expect much from paper tankoubon until the water is clean again. The ones that have it the worse here are the people running the bookstores. But I believe that the ones that do a good job of selecting what they carry will be able to survive.

Right now, I have the good luck of being able to just focus on the reader and draw my manga. There’s no greater joy than that.

(My Own) Commentary:

At https://note.mu/shuho_sato/n/n657d9e19f18f, there are some additional notes on this article written in a blog post by Shuuhou Satou. If you’re familiar with some of the details of Shuuhou Satou and Yoshida Takashi, then the interview would’ve come off as maybe slightly disingenuous. The mangaka that Yoshida Takashi was an assistant to was Shuuhou Satou, and Shuuhou Satou runs “Manga on Web.” Shuuhou Satou is a very vocal person about these issues (publisher vs creator rights, digital publications, etc.) and even manages a consulting service for mangaka contracts as well as a ebook distribution consulting service (Densho Bato.) In the blog post Shuuhou Satou confirms that the interview was meant to help a bit with the sales promotion and that Yoshida Takashi did go through his service with his ebook. He talks a bit about the perceived success of the article in boosting its position on Kindle’s comic ranking, but there are some more interesting points that he makes. One of them is that he made sure to not include his own name in the interview (though he was the one who authored and conducted it.) For anyone not familiar with the history, it probably doesn’t make a difference, but if you do know who he is, then it comes off as a bit underhanded. I think a lot of the things Shuuhou says are interesting, even if I don’t particularly think his comics are. Not putting that out there upfront for the reader when the interview is going to touch on the issues he’s known for getting into just makes Yoshida seem more like a parrot than his own person. It should be noted that Shuuhou and the people that he represents are really among the most successful in terms of making money off digital distribution, but Shuuhou is also pouring tons of money back into marketing and promotion.

Also, some of the numbers that they mention people talking about always strike me as a little humorous. At the moment I’m writing this, Yoshida has about 7,000 followers on twitter, and Shuuhou has about 10,000. Most of the retweets for the interview come from someone else’s account. Many of the authors that I enjoy reading and follow have lower numbers or no twitter account at all. That makes the editor’s comment about getting an author’s follower count to 30,000 pretty funny. In context, with the “data” that was getting mentioned, you’d move 3,000 units at best, which is close to the minimum of what you’d want to make profitability feasible on a tank’s print run.

Regarding the comments Yoshida makes about the marketplace currently, I do think there’s a lot of shit in the water, but I also think it’s worth mentioning that this shakeup also allowed for the existence and development of manga sites like Torch (Leed) and Mavo. I never would’ve expected the publisher that puts out Comic Ran, a magazine that is basically all samurai comics, to be behind something as forward-thinking as Torch. Shuuhou’s own Manga on Web is also one that was built in the muddied environment, though Manga on Web has been running in the red just like all of those other IT based sites. It’s not as though editors at paper publishers were making amazing decisions all the time prior to this marketplace flooding either. They may not have been looking at follower counts, but they definitely were stressing sales numbers, and a lot of them went with veterans that drew crap that sold rather than developing and fostering younger authors. At least in this environment, younger authors have some places online to put work up when niche magazines are getting shuttered, even if they’re all working side jobs at the same time. For the general consumer, it may be too confusing to choose, but for someone who will invest their time into finding works they want to read themselves, it’s not the chaotic environment he makes it out to be.

As for “Yaretakamo Iinkai,” you can actually read some of it in English “officially” on pixiv at https://www.pixiv.net/user/3130738/series/22797. My personal opinion of it is that… I’d rather read this than Shuuhou’s comics :T

#translation #manga #shuuhou satou #yoshida takashi

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thecrazydragonlady · 7 years

Text

“Special Episode: A Dragon in Paris”- Part 1

Synopsis: Things are about to get hairy as Jay and Brandon travel to Paris, France to visit Brandon’s Aunt Joy. Viper and Dark Claw have found their way their too and have teamed up temporarily with Paris’s number one villain Hawkmoth. If the villains are teaming up, then so are the heroes.

Author’s Notes: It is my Miraculous one year anniversary! On this day in 2016, I watched Stormy Weather for the first time and I was thoroughly confused but instantly fell in love, finding myself binge watching the whole series in a matter of a day. This is the fandom that I feel like I’ve found my place in. Thank-you all for a Miraculous year! Here’s to a lot more! Enjoy my version of a celebration. (PS- Before anyone rats on me for not putting much French in here: Understand that 15 year old Jay (real) would not have been able to understand French. This is following her. She would have been confused and unable to make out any real words.)

*This will also be loaded in a multi-part episodes.

Jay gulped as the nerves finally started to set in.

Sitting in the blue covered seat forced reality to set in, causing her face to go redder than it normally was.

She gripped the arm rests. Her stomach tumbled.

When was the medicine supposed to kick in?

A hand covered hers which made her jump. Looking up, she found herself meeting the kind-softened eyes of her travel companion. Brandon’s smile was just as soft.

For a moment, she forgot that she wasn’t supposed to like him.

“It’ll be alright,” he assured her. “Trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She jerked her hand out from underneath his. “Oh really? By doing what exactly? Let’s face it: if this thing goes down, we’re screwed.” Her eyes darted to the window as she tucked her hand under her other arm to keep it out of his reach.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t try,” he whispered. She almost thought she hadn’t heard him right. When she turned back to ask him to repeat himself, he chuckled instead, stating much louder, “I know this is your first time flying but seriously. You’re more likely to be killed by a cow than killed in an airplane.” The dark haired boy shifted in his seat, starting to lean back, “So just relax. You took your medicine about an hour ago. It should be kicking in soon anyway.” She stuck her tongue out at him but actually took his advice; she leaned back in her own seat. Not long after, her mind started spinning. The medicine was finally taking hold. Jay took a deep breath. Her last thought floated back to how in the world she ended up taking her first flight out of the country.

MLGBMLGB

“You want me to do what?” The blond sitting across from her shrugged. It was a normal school day: Jay had awoken, fed herself and Cassi, took off for school, gritted her teeth against some early-morning jabs from Lizzie and company, died in math, and had a usual spat with Brandon over something ridiculous. Out of everything, that was the most tiring. It seemed that the two of them just could not see eye-to-eye on anything. The back of her mind tickled. She really wished she knew who her partner Leo really was so she could gripe about her life to him. He would make everything so much better. He always did. However, with Arachnid and his flunkies Viper and Dark Claw still running around and causing chaos in town, trying to get their hands on the Golden Dragon charm she wore under her shirt, it just wasn’t to be, no matter how badly she wanted it.

“Hey Jay? Jay!” She blinked. The blond, Chris, smiled at her, sitting back on his bench. “Oh good. You’re back. Enjoy your trip?” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Har-har. But seriously, you want me to do what?”

“I want you to go with Brandon to Paris to visit our aunt,” he restated. Chris leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table top, weaving his fingers together. His blue eyes locked hard on her. She flashed red. “Look, usually we go during summer break to visit for a month or two.”

“I can’t leave for two months,” she protested. He smirked.

“If you let me finish: it’s not going to be this time. Aunt Joy is planning to go to a dig site in South America to study some new ruins that were found. She’s going the second week of June.”

“And why can’t you go?”

“Mom has a modeling job in California that week and we don’t like to send her out on her own to those kinds of things.”

“So… how did this play out exactly?” Chris’ smirk twisted to something akin to evil incarnate.

“Brandon drew the short straw.” Jay blinked. She then snickered.

“Of course he did.” A pause. “But seriously, I can’t answer your question.”

“Because of Brandon or…?”

“My parents,” she explained, “I don’t know if they’ll allow me to go.”

“What if we offer to pay for everything?” Her smile softened to something sadder.

“That would be nice, and needed to be honest, but really my parents are a bit… suffocating. I don’t get out much.” His eyes narrowed at the meaning behind her words. Slowly, he reached across the table, taking her hands gently in his own. Jay took a shaky breath.

“Listen,” he soothed, rubbing circles on the back of her hands, “don’t worry about your parents. My mom’ll make sure they say yes. I just need you to agree too. We’ll help pay for everything for sure and I’ll help you with the passport information. Please? Say yes?” She stared him up and down, noticing how his face was teasingly twisted into a puppy pout. After a few tense minutes, she sighed.

“Alright, I’ll go.” He leaned back excitedly.

“Thank-you Jay! Don’t worry about anything.” The bell ran for their next class. The two of them stood, taking their trash and throwing it away, before battling their way through the crowded hallway to their final classes of the day.

MLGDMLGD

Jay was a horrible traveler. On top of being very motion sensitive, she also got stiff quickly. And bored. Sick, stiff, and bored. What a lovely combination. Honestly, she was surprised that she hadn’t committed a homicide in the air since Brandon, bless him, had actually tried to make the journey better but had only managed to annoy her more than ever. When the plane landed, she was never so glad to be on the ground again. Standing in the Parisian airport, she stretched, working the kinks out of her legs and lower back. Brandon walked past her. “Glad to be on the ground again?”

“Very,” she confirmed, following him down to the baggage claim area. “Actually, I enjoyed being up in the air; it was just being cramped that sucked.”

“It usually is.” He stopped by a long metal conveyor belt that started after a few minutes, rolling out various suitcases. Brandon grabbed theirs as they came past. They walked down the hall, eventually coming out in a large forum area. She gripped the back of his sleeve. Crowds were another issue she had; he merely smiled down at her but wisely didn’t say anything about it. A voice rose above the clamor around them. He turned and waved to an older woman across the way. Sliding his hand back, he caught Jay’s before she could protest, and weaved their way through the crowd.

The woman they approached was a little shorter than the two of them. Her face was round with narrowed blue eyes and curly brown hair. Honestly, she looked like the spokesperson for some adventure magazine. Brandon released Jay’s hand once they were close enough so he could duck down a bit to give the woman a tight embrace. Her mouth split into a wide grin as she tightly wrapped him in it.

“Aunt Joy. It’s good to see you.”

She released him, “Oh sweetie. You say that every time.” She pinched his cheek. He rolled his eyes and Jay hid a snicker behind her hand. This alerted the older woman to her presence. “Oh? And who’s this?”

Brandon motioned for Jay to move up a bit. She shuffled forward, looking slightly embarrassed. “Aunt Joy, this is Jay Diggins. She’s in my honors Calc class.”

She offered a hand, “It’s a pleasure.” Aunt Joy smiled and took it gently, clasping it.

“It’s so nice to meet you and, look, our names are only one letter a part! This meeting was meant to be.” She patted her hand, “I’m glad to see this hard-headed nephew of mine is making friends over in the States. He always seemed to have a hard time here in Paris.”

Jay eyed him, “I didn’t know he lived in Paris.” Brandon shrugged but said nothing on the topic. The older woman chuckled.

“Only when he started giving his mother a hard time. He came and lived with me for a year but I travel too much to raise a child so I had to send him back.” She leaned in close to whisper to her, “He means well. The poor boy just doesn’t know how to demonstrate that.” Jay rolled her eyes but smiled.

“Trust me. I know. Our first meeting was kind of horrible.” Aunt Joy linked arms with the girl and started leading her out of the airport.

“I’m sure you’re tired from your trip. Why don’t we head back to my place, get you two settled, and you can tell me all about it over dinner?”

“Perfect,” she teased, sending a wink back to Brandon. Now it was his turn to blush red. As the three of them started to leave the building, talking and occasionally teasing each other over silly topics of conversation, an explosion rang out in the distance. They ducked instinctively. Cassi, sleeping in the carry-on Jay had with her, poked her head out to see what was going on. She started to loose herself from the older woman’s hold when another explosion rang out. Something flew on the horizon. Her eyes went wide as she found herself staring at two people, one in red with black dots and one in all black, landing nearby. They bantered back and forth (Jay didn’t catch it all and even if she did, she couldn’t understand it) but one of them, the red one, turned and saw the crowd. She straightened immediately. Jay didn’t need to speak French to understand that she was ordering everyone to get back inside or out of the way. Aunt Joy tugged her arm.

“Come on. This way.”

She pulled them into a nearby car, which she climbed into the driver seat. They weren’t given time to buckle up. As soon as everything was in, Aunt Joy hit the gas which sent the car rocketing down the road for some distance. The two in the back, breathing hard, turned to look out the back window just in time to see the two heroes take off again to meet a third dot some distance away; just enough that they couldn’t make out anything about it. Brandon sat forward in his seat. “What the heck was that,” he demanded.

“I forgot to tell your mom,” she answered, still driving, “but Paris has been having an issue with a super villain of all things! He calls himself Hawkmoth and he likes to turn ordinary people into his minions called akumas in order to get Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculouses.” Jay absently reached for the miraculous under her shirt. She didn’t see it but Brandon too reached for the band on his arm. The both of them grew gravely serious.

“How do you know that’s what he wants?”

“I was there,” she recalled, “When an akuma called Stoneheart basically took the Eiffel Tower. Hawkmoth made an appearance but Ladybug, the hero in red and black, sent him packing and saved Paris that day; it’s been about a year now and the two of them are always fighting to protect the city.” As they were turning on to another street, a streak of red shot past them, causing the two foreigners to flinch but the older woman to smile, “Don’t worry. That’s just Ladybug’s magic fixing the city. Knowing that things are going to be fixed makes it easier to stay in Paris.”

“Hawkmoth sounds like a pushover to be honest,” he snickered. “Could you imagine if Viper or Dark Claw showed up to partner with him?” Now it was Aunt Joy’s turn to look confused.

“Who?”

“Viper and Dark Claw. Paris isn’t the only place having issues with villains.” She gasped.

“No! Your city too?”

“Our city too,” Jay admitted. She gently rubbed the necklace under her shirt. It hadn’t dawned on her until just then that she had left town without letting Leo know; what was he going to do if Arachnid struck again while she was here? It made her heart drop. Maybe she could sneak away long enough to get in touch with him….

“You alright Jay,” Brandon asked. He was gently shaking her shoulder and she knew that she’d done it again. A weak smile came to her lips.

She nodded, “Yeah. Just getting hit with the jet lag.” He nodded and removed his hand, smiling.

“Aunt Joy’s isn’t too far from here. Why don’t you unpack and rest until dinner? We can go exploring the city tomorrow.”

“Oh of course! You two should go to the tower and the Louvre and I know the cutest little bakery with some really delicious goodies….” She continued to rattle off various things they could do throughout the week but Jay didn’t listen. Now she was worried. It lodged in her throat and right behind her heart and she couldn’t seem to make the feeling disappear.

MLGDMLGD

Words can have more power than one could imagine. Essentially, one could argue that by opening his mouth, Brandon had jinxed them since Viper and Dark Claw stood at the top of Notre Dame, staring down at the city. It was bright. Disgustingly so. She rolled her eyes.

“Now what? I’m not searching the whole city for this miraculous.” Dark Claw stood from his crouch. He eyed her, narrowing his eyes, silently wondering how the master continued to put up with her idiocy and inpatients.

“You won’t have to. The master gave me specific instructions for this city.”

She crossed her arms and cocked a hip. “He didn’t tell me anything.”

“Have you considered,” he noted, looking across the city, “that you lost that privilege when you decided to start doing things your own way? Your screw up the first time was enough to put the Dragon’s holder on alert to our presence.” She snickered.

“The other method takes too long.” He rolled his eyes. A faint fluttering caught his eye and he followed it for a moment. Dark Claw pulled his tail from around his waist. Tossing it, the end hooked on a lower part of the cathedral. Before he moved though, he told her, “You are welcome to take it up with the Master. It was his plan. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m actually going to follow through on this new plan. You’re free to do whatever. Just don’t get in my way.” Viper hissed at him. He jumped from the building before she could strike; she moved to the edge so her narrowed eyes could see what it was he was doing. She didn’t miss the faint flutter of glowing white wings. He was obviously chasing the butterfly. A grunt escaped her lips. Deciding it would be to her advantage to follow, she did, jumping from the roof and using her daggers to follow shortly behind her partner.

MLGDMLGD

Hawkmoth gritted his teeth. His latest minion, a disgruntled firefighter who became the Blaze, had failed just as every single one of his akumas had in the past. Opening his eyes, he held up his hand for the little butterfly to return as they always did.

He had to fight the strong urge to crush it in his hands.

This was frustrating. For one year he was constantly being beaten by two brats who thought they were superheroes and the miraculous were still out of his reach. He needed that power! Yet, his methods would have to change. He was wise enough to realize that but the method in which it was to happen alluded him just as much as the miraculous he hunted did.

“My, my, it looks like you could use some help.”

Hawkmoth opened his eyes. The round window that his butterflies entered and left through was smoking as a purple, noxious gas, eroded away the material, making a much larger entrance for two people to enter. The first was a smug looking girl in a brown, scale designed outfit. On her left hip was a dagger. He assumed it matched the one that currently was in the process of destroying his window. Next to her was a black hooded boy. If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn that this was another Chat Noir but he looked more… wild in his nature than the tame cat-boy he often had to face. His lips were tight, a feature he was sure was permanent. The mask on his face only increased the intensity of his amber colored eyes which glowed in the gloom of the evening. Hawkmoth crossed his hands on his cane.

“And who are you two? Coming in here destroying my property.” The girl jumped down followed by the boy. She sheathed her dagger.

“I don’t know what you said buddy,” she slowly drawled, “but we’re here to help you. We hear you’re after certain miraculouses.” He leaned his head to the side. Hawkmoth, because of his daytime profession, knew and understood English but it didn’t mean he had to indulge the apparently arrogant girl in an answer. The boy approached.

“Pardon her,” he spoke perfectly in French, “My associate is a little hard headed and impatient. We are Dark Claw and Viper and we were sent by our Master Arachnid to hunt down a certain miraculous of our own. He has offered a trade.” He reached into a bag at his side that he had not noticed before. He pulled out a cloth with an etched purple spider design on it; he laid it perfectly on the ground in front of him. Smoke erupted from it suddenly. Hawkmoth raised his staff as he attempted to cover his eyes. Viper snickered. When the hissing sound ended, he slowly opened his eyes and was thoroughly impressed, and surprised, to see a holographic image of a man, dressed in a suit and mask, a spider decorating the ascot around his neck. His hands were folded behind his back.

“Greetings Hawkmoth. I am Arachnid. I am sure my two associates have introduced themselves so we shall skip ahead to the business hm? I have a proposition for you: You help me collect the Golden Dragon Miraculous and I will help you collect the Ladybug and Chat Noir Miraculouses.”

“And why,” he mused, “Should I trust you?”

Without missing a beat, the image answered, “And what do you have to lose? I have kept my eye on your business Hawkmoth; your last year has been miserable. How far have you gotten in collecting those miraculouses exactly? I will say your best akuma so far has to have been Volpina. She was the one after all that nearly managed to get Ladybug to surrender her powers for that boy but in the end, she failed. Just like the rest of them.” He squeezed the top of his cane. “Then I think it would be to your benefit to help me as I will help you as well. Together, we can walk away with the miraculouses we desire and the world can be turned to our images. Maybe even for your wife….” That caught his attention. Hawkmoth’s head snapped up and he nearly growled.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I accept.” Arachnid’s smile twisted.

“Excellent.”

*****

Like my work? Buy me a kofi. <3

#mlfanfiction #the golden dragon #oc heroes #now in Paris #anniversary

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ranger-of-estel · 7 years

Text

Easter on board

So this was supposed to go up Sunday, but I had no wifi available and didn’t have the time until now. Just a little Easter spirit aboard the Waverider set sometime in S1 of Legends.

RogueCanary Brotp, hints of CaptainCanary if you squint.

Also; you can’t convince me Ray doesn’t keep track of holidays even while they are on a Timeship, and plan celebrations accordingly.

Read it on AO3

The team made their way toward the main deck, most of them carrying the decorative eggshells they’d found in their rooms before Rip called a meeting. Once everyone was gathered he glanced from them to the table before him. “Gideon,” they’d been in the vortex several days already, and he was exasperated. “Why are there eggs all over my ship?”

“Well Captain; according to my on-board calendar it is Easter.” She replied, “Hiding decorative eggs appears to be a tradition in the 21st century.”

“I am aware of the earth tradition, but why are they on my ship?” he repeated.

“It would seem someone on board has hidden them throughout the ship,” she answered simply.

“There are more?” Jax spoke up, glancing around the room curiously.

“I count several dozen,” the AI responded.

“Plastic or Boiled?” Sara inquired, glancing down at the one in her hand once more.

“Plastic, and by the weight I would say filled with something.” Gideon answered.

“Well,” Ray looked around at the others, “What are we waiting for?”

“Are you suggesting we actually look for them?” Leonard glanced over depreciatingly.

“It could be fun,” Kendra defended

“And it’s not like there’s anything better to do until we get a lead,” Jax added with a shrug.

“Well whatever the case, I expect it all cleaned up before you all turn in for the night.” Rip sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Yes sir!” Raymond gave a quick salute before glancing at Kendra and Jax, the three promptly taking off through the ship.

Rip mumbled something before moving to his study; Stein looked after the retreating forms with a small smile then turned back down the hall to his room. Sara turned to the two remaining members, “Well, I don’t know about you; but I could use some coffee.”

Len made a sound of agreement, Mick shaking his head as they walked “I could do for something stronger.”

As Leonard started coffee Sara took a seat at the table, picking up one of the delicate shells they had piled together. Hers had been yellow, other than the small white bird on either side. Mick’s was red, a lighter on one side and flame on the other. And Leonard’s was the most complex, a dark blue with lighter blue snowflakes decorating most of the surface. “You know, whoever it was put some thought into these.”

Len scoffed as he took a seat across from her, pushing the second mug in her direction. “Waste of time,”

“Perhaps, but it was a nice gesture. Besides; like Jax said it’s not like we have a lot to be doing.” She shrugged.

“Are you suggesting we join their children’s game?” He eyed her over his mug.

“I’m saying I’m bored,” She paused as shouting from the hall filled the room, Raymond and Kendra’s forms momentarily visible through the doorway. She grinned at him, “And I bet I could gather them faster than you.”

“Is that a challenge Canary?”

“I don’t know, afraid you’ll lose?” she teased

“Gideon,” He glanced up, “How many eggs left?”

“I count twenty more eggs remain hidden mister Snart.” She replied

“Winner chooses the prize?” he asked, brow raised.

“You’re on,” she turned to the other man, “Mick?”

“Pass,” he replied gruffly; taking another drink of beef as he leaned back onto the counter. “You two have fun.” And with one last drink they were both out the door.

Rip poured over the notes and clippings he had, searching desperately for another place they could intercept Savage. Leaning back he ran a hand down his face, allowing his eyes a moment of rest. As he glanced around the room he noticed the orange plastic tucked above a couple books. With a sigh he walked over, pulling the plastic egg free and pausing as it gave a rattling sound. Returning to his desk he popped it open, revealing a handful of jellybeans. “Gideon?”

“Yes Captain?”

He removed one of the candies, inspecting it absently. “Who hid the eggs?”

“Mister Palmer; he woke some hours before the rest of you to replicate and hide them.”

“Did he say why?” He knew Palmer likely spoke to the ship since no one else had been present for his ever wandering mind.

“Yes; he seemed to believe it would help cheer the others up after the recent string of failed missions. Then had me wipe his memory of where he hid them so he did not have an advantage in the hunt.” The ship paused, then added almost curiously “It does seem to have raised the spirits of the others.”

“How did he even know the date?” he popped the candy into his mouth, enjoying the rare treat.

“Mister Palmer has requested I notify him of holidays based upon when we left 2016.” She answered.

“And where are they now?”

“All the members except for Mister Snart, Mister Rory and Miss Lance are in the galley eating pizza and discussing earth tradition.”

“And the rogues?”

“In Mister Snart’s room,” she replied

He sighed, “Well at least no one is trying for murder today…”

“You cheated!” Sara exclaimed, glaring across the bed at a smug Leonard.

“Or you’re just bad at cards,” He replied coolly

“Blondie,” Mick motioned from his place on the floor to the table at her side.

She reached back, grabbing one of the twenty-one colored eggs and tossing it to him. “And I suppose you think Gideon’s sensors were off too?”

“That is the logical assumption.” He began shuffling the cards once more, “I’m surprised you weren’t double-checking her as well Assassin,”

As he began passing out cards between them she popped open another egg of her own, pulling the wrapped candy out before tossing the egg toward the growing pile next to Mick. “It’s strange, thinking about what I’d be doing back home.”

“Not like it’s the first one you’ve missed,” he glanced up at her.

“No, but in the league you lose track of days; so I didn’t really feel like I was missing anything.” She picked up the cards, organizing them in her hand.

“Not much to miss if you ask me.” Mick stated from the side,

She shrugged, “Maybe; but we would have been together. Laurel and Dad would have gotten off work to attend service this morning, then Dad would have fixed lunch and mom might have stopped by –“

“Then you decorate eggs and sing songs?” Len half mocked, “Didn’t take you for such a domestic Birdie,”

She glared, “Don’t you and Lisa meet up?”

He gave a half-laugh, “My sister and I don’t find holidays all that sentimental.” He shook his head, “Dear old dad didn’t make them all that memorable. I tried to get her a little something, but hardly enough to reminisce on.”

“What about you Mick?” Sara glanced over to him,

“Never cared much for it,” He offered a half grin, “I did try and stay up to shoot the rabbit when it tried sneaking into the house with a basket.”

“Mick!” she half scolded, “That’s awful”

He shrugged, “Almost got him too,” With a grunt he got to his feet, “I’m going for food, you want something?”

Sara nodded, “Surprise me,”

He barked a short laugh then turned to Snart, “Boss?” He simply shook his head, “Suit yourself.”

After he left the two resumed their game, “So no Easter, really?”

He shook his head, “Like I said, I would pull something together for my sister. But all dad brought home was alcohol and his fists.” He shook his head, “The only thing holidays are good for is distractions for a heist.”

“Sorry you feel that way,” She continued quietly, “But for the record; you aren’t so bad to spend special dates with.”

For a time they played in silence, until his smooth “You want a kiss Lance?” drew her attention.

“Do I what?” she jerked her head up, finding his usual smirk as he held out the foil wrapped chocolate.

“Not my thing,” he drawled.

“I hate you,” she grumbled, grabbing the candy from him.

“If you say so,” his voice softened, “And you aren’t such bad company yourself.”

She looked up, eyes searching his for some hint of his usual biting words or hidden jab. But before she could form a reply Mick returned, stack of pizza on a plate in one hand and the necks of several beers in the other.

Sara twisted the top of her bottle open, then glanced between them, “To celebrating non-traditionally.” They each offered her a half smile, touching their bottles to hers.

#legends of tomorrow #RogueCanary #Sara Lance #Mick Rory #Leonard Snart #Easter #My fic

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momscookingthebooks · 7 years

Photo

Chapter Reveal & Pre-Order Link

Title: Behind the Wall – Novella

Author: Jane Harvey Berrick

Publication Date: May 26, 2017

#ChapterReveal #BehindTheWall #JaneHarveyBerrick #Novella

Add to your Goodreads TBR: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35102646-behind-the-wall

Synopsis:

Prison. The place where dreams fade and hope dies.

That’s what it’s meant for the five years that Garrett has been behind bars. But now hope is on the horizon and he’s daring to dream again: small dreams, small hopes.

Getting his GED would be a start. If only his prison-appointed teacher Miss Ella Newsome wasn’t so damn sexy.

As Garrett and Ella start to play a dangerous game, the price could be higher than either of them have guessed. This story first appeared in the anthology HOT FOR TEACHER in 2016. It has since been extended with new scenes, more heart ache and even more heat.

Pre-Order Link:

Amazon: hyperurl.co/vehpb7

Chapter 1

Garrett “Hey, Garrett. Check out the new teacher, man.” Hudson’s voice was quiet, so as to not attract attention. I’d been in this shitty classroom for thirty seconds and I was already itching to leave. It brought back too many bad memories. But getting educated was a condition of trying to get my parole. I could put up with any amount of crap to say goodbye to this hellhole. I glanced up, sighing inwardly when I saw that Officer Reynolds was with the teacher. Some of the guards were fair, treating us okay, but some, like the asshole in front of me, got off on making us remember which side of the bars we were on. But I figured I’d been inside for five years—Reynolds was in for life, even if he did get to leave every night. Once I was out of this sewer, that was it, done. I was never coming back. Not again. My gaze drifted to the woman standing next to the Warden’s poster boy for prison brutality. She looked nervous, but was trying to hide it by standing straight, keeping her chin up, meeting a man’s eyes without prejudice or promise. I turned away. Sure, it was nice to have a female to look at, but anything longer than a quick glance would have Reynolds burning my ass. Besides, she wasn’t my type. I liked my women to look like women: tall, with tits and ass, big hair, lush lips, and a ballsy attitude. The new teacher was kind of small, although she had a nice rack. Her hair was a pretty auburn color, but it was short, not even chin length. Nothing for a man to grab onto. And not a scrap of makeup. A man dreamed about scarlet lips in a place like this. I could see her hands shaking as she stood behind the desk, holding onto her schoolbag like it would save her from drowning. Not in this classroom, sweetheart. She wouldn’t last. She looked as if a stiff breeze would blow her over. Reynolds rapped his baton on the desk to get our attention, but the only person who jumped was the new teacher. I was amused to see a warm flush rise up her cheeks. I could tell by the irritated glance she threw Reynolds’ way that she was annoyed with him as well as herself. Reynolds looked as though he was about to start one of his lectures, telling us how we was shit and not worth the money spent on keeping our asses in prison, but the woman stepped from behind the desk and started talking. “Hello, class,” she said, walking to the front as her blush faded. “My name is Miss Newsome…” My mouth dropped open, and every swivel-eyed pervert in the room was transfixed by our new teacher. She had the smallest waist hovering over the biggest ass I’d ever seen. Hourglasses didn’t have anything on her. I scrubbed my hands over my face. One hour of sheer hell coming up. “I wish I did knew some her ass,” mumbled Cooper from the back of the room, echoing the thoughts of every man here. “Who said that?” roared Reynolds, stalking down the gap between the desks that were bolted to the floor. “Cooper, you show some goddamn respect or you’ll be spending the next six weeks in solitary!” Reynolds’ face had turned a reddish-purple, and I wondered if we’d be lucky enough to watch him stroke out. Movie night had been cancelled for the last month, so the boredom level was at an all-time high. But then the teacher cleared her throat, her voice stronger although still high pitched with tension. “As I was saying, my name is Miss Newsome, and I’ll be your teacher for the rest of the semester…” “We ain’t got no semesters here,” muttered Chiverson. “Just one-to-three for felony assault.” Reynolds growled out another threat. Miss Newsome ignored him, approaching the front row, giving those lucky bastards a ring-side view of a knee-length charcoal gray skirt stretched tight over those wide hips, and a plain white shirt that did nothing to hide her fuck-me curves. She was obviously trying to go for spinster, but she’d lucked out on sexy librarian instead. I was doomed. I’d never pass my GED with her as my teacher. I raised my eyes to the ceiling, praying to some higher power that I definitely didn’t believe in. It was only when the room went silent, no man even breathing, that I realized she’d stopped by my seat. “Am I boring you already, Mr. … Garrett?” I saw her eyes dip to the number printed across my prison scrubs before checking her clipboard for my name. I didn’t know which surprised me more—hearing her say my name, calling me ‘mister’, or the sass in her voice as she did it. Girl was tougher than she looked. Yep, screwed. Royally fucking screwed. I realized that she was still waiting for an answer. “No,” I said, dropping my eyes to her hips, before squeezing my eyelids shut. “I mean, no, ma’am.” “Good!” she said brightly. “I look forward to your full participation in this class.” “Party— what?” asked Jakowski, sitting at the desk next to me, his voice hopeful. Her eyes softened a fraction as she turned in his direction, and I couldn’t help noticing that they were large and brown, like a puppy or Bambi’s mom before she got shot. Ah, shit. “Participation,” she said calmly. “It means that I want everyone to join in during my classes, not sit there thinking about what you’re having for dinner.” A soft rumble of amusement rippled through the room. Reynolds looked furious. But then again, that was pretty much his resting bitch-face. “I’ll do my best to keep the lessons interesting,” she went on. “But we have a lot of work to get through. I know you’re all up to the challenge because you’ve been specially selected—you guys are my top class.” I looked up at that. I’d never been top of anything, unless it was a hot woman. I saw a lot of the other guys eyeing her with disbelief and mistrust, too. “I mean it,” she said softly, as we all hung on her every word. “Mr. Michaels, the Warden, is very keen that everyone in this class gets their GED. It’s my job to make sure that you do. But I’ll need your cooperation to achieve that. I promise that I’ll make every effort to help you, but you all need to promise me that you’ll try, as well. So, I don’t want anyone in this classroom sitting silently because they don’t understand. If you have a question, you raise your hand. Please remember that you learn by asking questions. Don’t be macho about it—ignorance isn’t bliss.” I felt her gaze on me again, but I kept my head down. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Garrett?” I didn’t like her picking on me, and I frowned at my rough hands clasped together on the empty desk. “Answer her, boy!” snarled Reynolds, rapping his baton next to my fingers, making me snatch them away fast. “Yes, ma’am,” I muttered, keeping my eyes fixed on the buttons of Reynolds’ uniform to keep from punching the bastard. Yep, those eighteen months of mandatory anger management classes had gotten through to me: think first, punch later when you won’t get caught. Miss Newsome cleared her throat, bringing attention back to her. I drew in a breath, and as she drifted past me, the faint scent of summer flowers hung in the air. I didn’t think she was wearing perfume, so it must have been her shampoo or soap, but whatever it was, the smell was all woman. I breathed deeply again, feeling a mixture of anger and dizziness at having something so enticing, near but out of reach. “Those of you who graduate my class will have the opportunity to move on to college-level courses.” At that point, most of us lost interest. We hadn’t succeeded in school and we hadn’t succeeded in life. What made this college-educated bitch think she could give us anything we needed? Sensing she was losing us, she went on brightly, her voice a little more shrill than it had been a minute before. “And I’ll be looking out for a teacher’s aide as we go on—so maybe you can impress the heck out of me.” Looking around at the bored, disconnected expressions of the other prisoners, it seemed unlikely. “Okay, so I thought I’d start off with a poem by Oscar Wilde, ‘The Ballad of Reading Gaol’.” Her voice gained strength as she read, but fuck me, what a depressing fucking poem. I listened to the rise and fall of her voice, but I tuned out most of the words.

“I never saw a man who looked

With such a wistful eye Upon that little tent of blue Which prisoners call the sky.”

That penetrated—so many times I’d looked up at the patch of sky above the exercise yard and tried to remember what it felt like to be free. Free to stare up at the sky and not have to watch my back at the same time. From the corner of my eye, I saw a black guy I didn’t know raise his hand, making the teacher stutter and pause. “Yes, Mr. … Haslett?” “Ma’am, we already know all about prison. Rather we’d study somethin’ else.” Her mouth popped open and her eyes screwed up. Ah hell! Surely she wasn’t going to cry? If she did, she’d never put a foot in this classroom again. “Oh,” she huffed, sounding flustered. “Yes, I see.” I was fascinated by a bead of sweat that escaped her hairline, running down her cheek and disappearing into her prim collar. I expected her to wipe it away with those long, slim fingers. But she acted like she hadn’t noticed, even though the classroom was rank with humidity, sweat and failure. “I just thought…” she waffled on. “I thought … no, you’re right. Well, we could study a poem about love—about love and hate? Would that be better?” The black guy twitched a shoulder. “You’re the teacher.” Miss Newsome laughed. It was such a bright sound, easy, such a contrast to the tense, angry or bored voices I heard around me the rest of the day. Something tightened in my chest. Six months. Six more months, then maybe I can find myself a woman who laughs so free and easy. I enjoyed the view of Miss Newsome’s ass as she walked back to her desk, the rhythmical sway of those full hips, the way her skirt swung around her knees. Pretty fucking mesmerizing. She started rummaging through her enormous pile of books. Her lips were moving, and I guessed that she was talking to herself. Her pile was huge, and she was in danger of tipping over. But the thought of her ending ass up across her desk made my prison uniform uncomfortably tight. And if the expressions of the guys around me were anything to go by, she was having the same effect on them. Miss Newsome had better watch her cute ass and not get caught in an empty classroom with any of these goons. There’s only so much restraint a man has. I frowned at the thought of someone violating teacher-lady. No, that pissed me off. Goddammit! Now I’d feel obliged to keep an eye on her. I slumped in my seat, sighing heavily, only noticing the stink-eye she gave me when Hudson elbowed me in the ribs again, grinning broadly. She snapped open the book she was holding like she was about to shank me with it, and with a final glare, began to read. “Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.” She lowered the book, her face flushed, and when she glared in my direction again, I guessed she must still be mad at me. Great. “The poet, Robert Frost, was inspired by the fourteenth-century Italian poet Dante and his description of Hell. The worst offenders—traitors—are in a fiery hell while bound in ice. And isn’t that contradiction an apt description of love?” There was a moment of silence before anyone spoke. “That poem is the shit, ma’am!” said a guy to my right. “Like how a woman gets you all hot and angry, then freezes your ass off ‘cause you didn’t get her the right kind of candy. And how it gets you fired up that she can be so cold, and all you can think of is warming her up till she burning like a Fourth of July firework.” “Yeah, and then you blow your fucking load and it’s a loud bang and all over,” laughed another guy. “Watch your damn mouth, Fisher!” Reynolds yelled. “You will respect your teacher and keep your language clean.” “It’s fine, really,” Miss Newsome said weakly. Reynolds turned to her slowly. “With all due respect, ma’am, these animals will take advantage any chance they get. You’ve got to let ‘em know who’s boss.” She flushed with anger and embarrassment, but for the rest of the lesson, she could hardly get a word out of anyone; no one wanted to be on the wrong side of Reynolds. No one wanted to end up in solitary on his watch. It was the quietest poetry discussion that I’d ever seen. And I couldn’t even spell party— partycipation… As the bell rang for chow time, the little teacher looked almost desperate. “Thank you all for today,” she said, smiling like she’d just chewed on a juicy lemon. “I’m afraid there’s homework—but nothing too much for the first time. I’d like you all to write a page on the subject of ‘the best day of my life’.” Benson raised his hand. “Was it when you graduated college, Miss?” “What? Oh no! I mean what was the best day of your life?” Benson stared at her gravely. “Well, let me see now; I been incarcerated for nineteen years, and might get paroled next winter. I’ll have been in stir more than half my life. Ain’t been a whole lot of best days.” She blinked rapidly, then gave him a soft smile. “Maybe you’d like to imagine what your best day would be like?” He stared back at her, then nodded solemnly. “I reckon I’d like that just fine.” She smiled with relief. “Good, good. And the same goes for the rest of you. If you want to imagine your best day instead, that’s okay by me.” As we filed out of the room, Reynolds watching our backs like the answer to the Universe was written on them, the teacher gave us each a lined sheet of paper and a blunt pencil. “Write small,” she teased. When she handed me my paper, her smile slipped. And I can’t tell you how bad it hurt that she’d smile for every motherfucker in here, but not for me.

About the Author:

Jane is a writer of contemporary romance fiction, known for thoughtful stories, often touching on difficult subjects: disability (DANGEROUS TO KNOW & LOVE, SLAVE TO THE RHYTHM); mental illness (THE EDUCATION OF CAROLINE, SEMPER FI); life after prison (LIFERS); dyslexia (THE TRAVELING MAN, THE TRAVELING WOMAN).

She is also a campaigner for former military personnel to receive the support they need on leaving the services. She wrote the well-received play LATER, AFTER with former veteran Mike Speirs. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hk1CyB8c0xA )

Author Links:

Web: http://janeharveyberrick.co.uk/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/jharveyberrick

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JHBWrites/

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/search/pins/?q=jane%20harvey-berrick

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jharveyberrick/

Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6458246.Jane_Harvey_Berrick

Amazon Author Page:

https://www.amazon.com/Jane-Harvey-Berrick/e/B00A6RIMUC

#chapter reveal #Behind the Wall #jane harvey-berrick #novella #coming soon #Hosted by Ardent Prose PR

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packernet · 7 years

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New Post has been published on http://www.packernet.com/blog/2017/05/05/green-bay-packers-2017-draft-picks-in-1-play/

Green Bay Packers 2017 draft picks in 1 play

It finally happened ladies and gentlemen, the 2017 NFL draft has officially concluded. As we all brace for the most painful 3 months of the NFL dead season, let’s take a moment to get to know the newest Green Bay Packers. In an attempt to present something you’ve already seen dozens of times in a new way, we’ll use 1 play to summarize each player drafted.

Kevin King: King of the Boundary

We’ve all seen this highlight at least a billion times. Part of me wanted to find a new clip so as to not not seem too boring or lazy but the more I think about it, there is no better representation of what Kevin King offers the Packers than this play.

In 2016 , Kevin King allowed exactly 0 touchdowns. You know why? The guy is 6’3 and runs a 4.3 40. If you want to beat him you have a shot with underneath throws but beating him deep or trying to throw a fade in the endzone is going to result in a bad day for you. King is a monster on the outside and is exactly what the Packers needed.

With the addition of Davon House the Packers now have two big corners to handle outside duty which allows Gunter to strictly operate as the number three outside guy. The rest of the 5’11 corners are free to play toward the middle where athleticism is more important than raw size and power.

Josh Jones: The Ballistic Missile

To me, the Josh Jones pick was the epitome of a Ted Thompson pick. You’re texting your friends back and forth wondering who the pick will be. Roughly 45 names have been batted back and forth on top of the 10 or so the gentleman on TV list as the best remaining. The reaction following the pick is, “A safety? Why a safety? ….And who is Josh Jones??”

But as time goes on and you watch the player, it becomes clear why Jones was drafted and you start to wonder why the guy wasn’t in the first round conversation. As far as why a safety, for those wondering, Jones isn’t a depth pick. The Packers employ a ton of 3 safety looks in their dime package in which Burnett lines up as a linebacker. With Hyde gone, Kentrell Brice is now the third safety. No disrespect to Brice but this was a need pick, not a luxury one.

I don’t mean to imply with the clip that Jones can’t cover but the thing that excites me about Jones is what you see above. He is a heat seeking missile that destroys his target on impact. With his 4.41 speed, Jones can close with lightning quickness. Add in that he’s 220 pounds and the guy is a wrecking ball.

We don’t yet know how the roster will shake out but if you were to ask me how I would do it, Jones would take over for Morgan Burnett in the dime situation, playing as the inside linebacker. His range and power would make any attempt to throw underneath a waste and would also allow Ha Ha and Burnett to rove over the top. It gets me excited just thinking about it.

Montravius Adams: Mount Travius

The Packers top brass made the comment that they were shocked to see Adams available when they were picking which tells me they feel they got a steal. I tend to agree

I love the video above because it represents two things about the player that I think are important. The first is his elite speed and athleticism that allows him to get up field and fast. Of all the 300 plus pound defensive lineman, only 4 were able to run the 40 in under 5.00 seconds.

Eddie Vanderdoes: 4.99 Larry Ogunjobi: 4.98 Charles Walker: 4.96 Montravius Adams: 4.88

It’s really not even close. The Packers love athleticism and they got perhaps the best combination of size and speed in the defensive lineman class.

The second thing I love about the video is it highlights his ability to make plays. It sounds like boring analysis but so many defensive lineman have the strength to push people around but when it comes time to bring down the runner or quarterback, they fall short. They can’t disengage the blocker, wrap up the runner, and make a play. Adams is fantastic at not only winning the point of attack but moving the blocker out of the way and making the play when it counts.

Vince Biegel: Clay Jr.

Bottom line, Vince Biegel is Clay Matthews. I’m not sure why Clay Matthews’ value is now worth a 4th round pick but let’s just look at this real quick.

Vince: 6’3 246, 4.67 40, 21 bench, 33.5 vert, 118 broad, 6.92 3 cone 0.33 sacks per game in senior year (4 in 12 games)

Clay: 6’3 240, 4.67 40, 23 bench, 35.5 vert, 121 broad, 6.90 3 cone 0.35 sacks per game in senior year (4.5 in 13 games)

They are the exact same person. Add to the fact that they both have a high motor, maximum effort, and glorious hair… I’m telling you, same person.

Here’s your clip, enjoy.

Jamaal Williams: The Brawler

I love Ty Montgomery but the one thing that is clearly lacking with the loss of Eddie Lacy is a bruiser. The Packers went out and got three. We’ll see who makes the final roster but the idea of the Packers being able to pound defenses over and over and over with a stable of thumpers has to get you excited.

None are more exciting than Jamaal Williams who is an absolute brawler that looks for contact. He put it this way.

“I like to bruise and pound people a lot. I feel like I’m a grinder, a workhorse. As the game gets in the third and fourth quarter, I’m getting stronger and stronger and trying to wear defenses down. That’s how I like to play but at the same time I feel like I have the ability to make big runs and get to the end zone anytime too.”

Have you ever seen something so awesome it gave you chills and the chills were so intense your eyes watered a little? I found the little doozy below and that was exactly what happened to me. Notice at the end how he waves at the tackler to come get him and runs into the contact. It’s the 4th quarter by the way. I really really like this guy.

DeAngelo Yancey: The Golden Eagle

A guy that runs a 4.53 40 time but manages to rack up 19.4 yards per carry is unusual. In Yancey case, being 6’2 220 pounds, you might assume he gets a lot of yards after the catch. Watching the guy play, however, it seems all his big plays are down the field where he manages to get behind the DB’s.

The Packers mentioned he plays much faster than his 40 and that certainly seems to be the case.

Aaron Jones: The Bullet Ant

Aaron Jones as compared to Jamaal Williams is the small shifty guy of the bunch. Don’t let that fool you, the guy is a banger. Yes he’s 5’9. Ask me if I care.

Again, we’ll see how the final roster shakes out but winning in the 4th quarter just got a lot easier.

Kofi Amichia: The Bull

The Packers drafted an offensive tackle in the middle rounds who will be converted to guard. The only question left is, how long before he goes to the pro bowl?

Amichia having played tackle has the athleticism to pull and get to the next level in the NFL but is, at heart, a mauler.

Below, Amichia is the left tackle number 75.

The AAC isn’t the toughest conference in the country but Amichia dominated everyone in front of him. I’m excited about him, especially since, at this point in time, he’s depth.

Devante Mays: Pinball Wizard

Our third and final banger is Eddie Lacy reincarnate. At 5’11, 230 pounds, Mays is dimensionally the same player.

To make things sweeter, Mays ran a 4.5 40 (Lacy ran it in 4.64) and has a 420 pound bench press (22 reps at 225) which drew some comparisons to 3rd round pick, D’Onta Foreman.

The big concern with Mays is his 1 full year playing running back followed by an injury that kept him out of most of his senior year. The small sample size and injury concerns likely dropped him to the 7th. Outside of that, Mays was a 3rd round pick this year.

Malachi Dupre: Cinderella Man

Hopefully Dupre never finds out the name I gave him but it works. Like the movie, Dupre was once considered one of the best but inexplicable (in my mind anyway) fell to the 7th round. The name is also a compliment because it implies that I expect him to rise to the top once again…. I’m sorry Malachi.

It’s hard to see what’s happening above but it appears to be a ball that hits the intended receiver in the leg and Dupre catches the deflection.

It seems like a weird highlight but my take away from Dupre is that his strength is his ability to make the plays in front of him. He isn’t super tall, he’s less than 200 pounds, he ran a 4.52, and thanks to a poor quarterback, his stats aren’t fantastic.

Still, when the ball is in the air, my money is on Dupre. His ability to adjust and make the play no matter the situation has to get you excited, especially for a receiver that will have Mr. Improvisation, Aaron Rodgers, as his quarterback.

Similar to Geronimo Allison, there is nothing about him that makes you think he would make a good receiver, yet whenever he was on the field he just seemed to make plays. That’s how I see Dupre as a Packer.

#NFL Draft

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